


Fairy Tale Princes and Other Nightmares

by Elfflame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Fairy Tales, M/M, NaNoWriMo, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-03 17:50:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfflame/pseuds/Elfflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has been having an increasing number of strange dreams about Harry Potter, growing more disturbing with each one.</p><p>Complete 3/23/13</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Draco's Dreams Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here is my NaNoWriMo from 2007, originally titled Draco's Dreams. I have been meaning to rewrite this since 2008, but life and time got away with me, so here it is, finally, 4 years later.
> 
> I have had a lot of help with this over the years, but never managed to get much posted, so the final version will be here at AO3, and all other versions are just drafts.

Draco woke with a start, the memory of bright green eyes and a wide smile caught in the moment between sleep and waking. This had to stop. He stumbled from his bed, glancing up into the mirror over his dresser, looking at the flush spread across his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes.

Everyone thought that dreams were meant to tell you something. But Draco couldn't afford to let himself believe that, because otherwise, he’d go insane. There was no way he could believe that having seven nights of dreams about Potter meant _anything_. Just the thought made him ill. 

It was getting both harder and easier to sleep. Harder, because he didn’t _want_ to have another of the bloody things, and easier, because as time went on, the dreams were becoming increasingly more attractive to him somehow. The idea of those green eyes on him, that smile… 

Draco shook his head to clear it, glowering into the mirror. This was precisely the problem! He couldn’t want Potter! Just the idea was ludicrous. Yet each morning, he woke with those eyes foremost in his mind. This last dream had been the most intense of all. He couldn't even allow himself to remember, but god, he wanted to. Just remembering the feeling of Potter’s lips on his; of their bodies pressed together… Just thinking of it again made his lips and skin tingle. 

He was going to have to confront Potter. Find out what sort of spell he'd had placed on him, and how. Probably through the wand Potter had stolen from him. It was the only thing that made sense, after all. Otherwise, why would he have given it back? And there was nothing else of Draco’s that he’d had possession of in just that way.

Still, it was one thing to know he had to talk to Potter. It was quite another to gather his nerve to do so. He knew where the prat lived, of course. It was the Blacks’ ancestral home, after all. Not something Potter could truly keep from him. But facing him…how could he do that? Just the thought made his throat close, the memory of the dreams returning far too quickly. Not to mention he was certain to get a less-than friendly reception when he arrived unannounced.

He couldn’t let that stop him, though. He had to get rid of these dreams. The last had been the most vivid yet. And if they didn’t stop… He shivered, hugging himself, and tried to banish the images from his mind.

It took time to put an impressive enough outfit together. He didn’t want Potter thinking he’d managed to affect him, after all. Even if he had. Once he’d showered and combed out his hair—shoulder length…looked like it was time to get it trimmed again—he pulled on his robes, then apparated to Grimmauld Place.

It took him a bit to be certain of the house, but once he was, he walked up the steps confidently. He only hoped the circles under his eyes weren’t too obvious. He clacked the knocker against the door, harder than he might have otherwise, then waited for Potter to answer. He kept his breathing steady, though he did jump a little when the door opened.

Granger peered out at him, but she said nothing at first, just looked at him. There was whispering behind her, and she glanced at whoever was there with her—Weasley? Potter? After a moment, she opened the door wider to glare at him. “Malfoy? What do you want?”

“I need to talk to Ha-Potter.”

“He’s busy,” she said with a slight scowl. “Come back another time.” 

She tried to close the door, but he caught it, keeping her from shutting it all the way. “No. I need to talk to him _now_.”

There was a sigh, then the door opened again. “It’s okay, Hermione.” Potter appeared, moving to stand next to her. “If I can handle Voldemort, I can handle Draco Malfoy.”

Draco couldn’t repress a shudder at the Dark Lord’s name. “I won’t take much of your time.”

“Good. 'Cause I have other things I’d rather be doing than talking to you, Malfoy.” Potter opened the door wider, waving Draco in. 

Draco saw Weasley at the end of the hall, glaring at him as well. Granger looked ready to hex him, and Potter didn’t look much more pleasant than the other two. “Can we talk somewhere more private?” Draco asked.

“I don’t think—” Weasley started, but Potter waved him off.

“All right. Come on. There’s another sitting room upstairs. We can use that.” He led the way, and Draco followed, trying not to notice Weasley’s increased glares as he passed by.

“Harry, I really don’t think this is a good idea…” he growled as Potter passed him.

“I can handle myself, Ron. Just…calm down, okay?”

Weasley sighed, but he didn’t stop them as they made their way up the stairs. Once Potter had shown Draco to the sitting room, he let Draco enter first, closing the door behind them. “So…what’s this about, Malfoy?”

It was hard, after his dreams, hearing Potter calling him that. “Could you…lock the door, please? If they listen in, that’s one thing. But…I don’t want them barging in. I’m…not sure I can manage to explain more than once.”

“Explain what?”

“Please, Potter?”

“How do I know you’re not going to hex me if I do?”

Draco sighed. “I’ll give you my wand. Not that I could use it on you, now. It still recognizes you as its owner.”

Potter looked at him for a moment, sizing him up, then shook his head. “No…that’s all right.” He turned to the door, locking it with a spell, then turned back to look at Draco again. “So…what is it that you need to explain?”

The problem was, now that he was here, facing Harry—Potter, he thought to himself insistently—he couldn’t figure out how to start. He decided to start with his wand, pulling it out of the pocket he’d stored it in. “Did you want it?” he asked, handing it over, handle-first.

Potter shook his head again, crossing his arms, his expression more neutral now. “No. I’m more than capable of defending myself,” he said confidently.

Draco placed it on the table rather than putting it back in his pocket. He didn’t want Potter thinking that he was here to attack him, after all. He moved away from it, crossing to the window, glancing out at the street before looking back at his one-time nemesis. “Did you curse me, Potter?” he finally asked.

Potter blinked. “Excuse me? What the…”

“It’s just…ever since the battle…I…I’ve been having these dreams.”

“Dreams. You think…what? That I hexed you to dream nasty things?”

“About you.” 

Potter’s eyes really widened then. “What?”

“You heard me. I’m not going to say it again.”

“You’re having dreams…about _me_?” 

“That’s what I said. You’re saying you didn’t…” Potter's honest shock was surprising. If he hadn't done this, then why…?

“Why would I want you dreaming about me, Malfoy? We hate each other!”

Draco turned away. Potter wasn’t the sort to prevaricate easily, so it really looked like this wasn’t some sort of trick. “I know. But…not…not in my dreams.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?” Potter sounded annoyed now.

Draco turned back to him. If he could tell anyone, it was Potter. After all, if he had to suffer through them, then Potter should, too. “I dream about you…chasing me. Or…being friends with me. Or…more…” An image from his last dream rose in his mind. The two of them twined on his bed. He turned fully away from him and looked out at the street again.

“More?” Potter sounded truly horrified. “How many of these dreams have you had?”

“I…I’m not sure. I remember several, though.”

“How many?”

“Seven.”

“Seven? You’ve had seven…”

“Good god, Potter! Do you have to go on about it? This is difficult enough without you echoing me.” He moved to a couch, dropping into it, then put his head in his hands, his fingers tangling in his hair.

“So…why did you come here?”

Glancing up at Potter, Draco sighed. “I had hoped…maybe it was just a spell.”

“You thought I’d done this to you. But…why?”

“I don’t know! To…torment me.”

“I have no reason…”

“You had my wand! You could have done anything to it!”

“Well, I didn’t,” Potter said, and as he turned away to move to the couch across from him, Draco could hear a soft snort. When he looked at Draco once more, his face was calmer, though Draco thought he saw a gleam of interest in his eyes. “What kind of dreams are they? I’m not…hurting you, am I?”

Draco shook his head. “No. Not really.”

“Not really? Then…what?”

“They’re different each time.”

“Different?”

Draco nodded. “The earliest ones were more like…more real. But then…” He looked up to meet Potter’s eyes. 

“Yeah?” he said. “Then what?”

“Then they get…different. Princes, and balls, and dragons…”

“Dragons?”

“You’re repeating my words again, Potter.”

“Sorry. Tell me about them?”

“Tell you about them? I thought I was?”

“Yes, but…I mean…what happened in them?”

Draco flushed, thinking about them and how Potter might respond. “Are you sure you want me to?”

“Please,” Potter said, nodding slowly.

“All right,” Draco sighed. He wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but who else could he tell? “The first…You decided you wanted to make peace. So you came to ask me a favour…”


	2. Of Promises, Frogs, and Princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry asks to stay at Malfoy Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story based on the Frog Prince.

Draco Malfoy had had two bad years in a row, and even though the war was finally over, this year wasn't turning out be much better. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter.”

“You said that if I could ever think of anything you could do to repay me for helping you and your family, I should let you know. I’m letting you know, Draco. I want to come live in the Manor with you.”

Even after the third reiteration, the thought still made Draco’s head spin, and he had been staring at Potter dumbly for the minutes that had followed the original request. Even now, it still made no sense. “That’s ridiculous, Potter. Why would you want to stay at the Manor? What about Black’s place? Surely you want to stay there?”

Potter shook his head. “No. I hate that place. I want to stay with you.”

It was like a broken record. They’d already been at this for five minutes, and it still made Draco's head hurt as he tried to understand. “Why?” he finally asked, trying to free them both from the loop they seemed to be stuck in.

Potter shrugged. “Because I can.”

Draco sighed. “Fine. I can have the elves prepare you a room in the guest wing, I suppose. Shouldn’t take too lo—”

“No. I want a room near yours. Next door, if possible.”

Draco blinked, staring at Potter, waiting for the rest of his little gang to appear and tell him the joke was on him. It didn’t happen. “What? Why on earth…Potter, that makes no sense.”

“Why not? I mean, in a house that size, you must have hundreds of rooms, right? There has to be one closer to yours than the guest wing.”

“It’s not that…you…hate me. Why would you want to be anywhere near me? Let alone right next to me?”

“Does it really matter? I just want it,” Potter responded with a shrug.

“You want to live in my house, near me? You actually want to live with a family of Death Eaters?”

“Well…you aren’t any longer, right? And…your mother did save my life…”

Draco sighed. He supposed it was true. After all, Lord Voldemort was gone. And the Malfoys had chosen each other over him at the end. “And…when would you want to move in?” he asked.

“As soon as possible. I’ve moved into the Weasleys’ place, but I’m sure you can imagine how crowded things are there. Not to mention how difficult, what with losing one of their sons. I’d rather not impose on them any longer than necessary.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed at that. “No. Just on us, apparently?”

“Yes, well, you have the space, at least,” Potter said with a sweet smile that Draco could not ever remember having had directed at him before. He had to admit, it threw him for a loop.

Finally, Draco shook his head to clear it, then nodded. “All right. Just…let me talk to my parents before you show up, baggage in tow?”

“Of course, Draco,” Potter said with that same smile. That smile was definitely going to cause him problems.

“All right, then.” Yes, this year definitely was shaping up to be at least as difficult as the previous two. 

And it didn’t get any better when he told his father Potter’s request. “You told him what?” Lucius’s temper had been paper-thin since returning from Azkaban, though he’d managed to keep it under control while the Dark Lord had been around. But now? Why would he even consider having the boy hero anywhere near him, let alone living in their home?

“He saved my life. Twice. And saved all three of us from Azkaban, father. If not, we’d have lost everything! What was I supposed to do?”

“You should have paid him off! Something! Anything other than _this_!”

“Lucius,” Narcissa said in her calmest voice, “calm down. I am quite certain Potter won’t hurt us. He does owe me a life-debt, after all. And he will likely get bored with watching us soon enough.”

Both Malfoy men looked at her aghast. “Yes, Narcissa. But…living with us?” Lucius asked. “It makes no sense. Not unless the boy is trying to find a way to trap us somehow?”

“He’s hardly likely to send you back to the place he saved you from, Lucius… Do calm down. You’ll give yourself a heart attack. I’m certain it won’t be as bad as you seem to think.”

“You don’t know him, mother. Not the way father and I do. He gets his nose in everything! He’ll follow us everywhere! And why on earth does he want a room near _me_?”

Both of the elder Malfoys looked at him, shocked. “What?” Lucius asked. “Why would he want that?”

Narcissa’s face took on a calculating look. “He didn’t say why?”

“No,” Draco said, shaking his head and scowling. “And it makes absolutely no sense to me.”

She smiled. “Hm…well, it might to me.” She turned to Lucius. “I say we let him. If my assumption is correct, he’ll be very controllable. And we could always use the favour of a hero, couldn’t we?”

Both father and son looked at her, dubious. “If you say so, Narcissa. But if that boy so much as threatens…”

“Then we will deal with him, won’t we?” she smiled, and Draco was struck at how similar the smile was to the one Potter had given him. “Draco, dearest, why don’t you owl Potter and tell him his room should be ready tomorrow?” His heart dropped. Yes. This was going to be a very bad year, indeed.

Potter appeared early the next morning, far too early, suitcase in hand, a trunk and several boxes floating behind him. He looked as though he’d been given an invitation to stay with the Queen at Buckingham Palace or something. It was enough to nauseate Draco, that pleased expression. As though they hadn’t been forced into letting him stay with them.

He was quick to move into the room adjoining Draco’s. Draco still wasn’t sure why his mother had insisted upon that room. After all, there was another on the other side of his room that would have done as well. And it didn’t have a door that opened into Draco’s room at all. Surely his privacy was at least as important as making Potter happy?

As it was, Draco was quite sure he’d have to murder the git before the week was out. Everywhere he went, Potter seemed to find a way to be there before he’d arrived. Shouldn’t he be getting lost in this huge place? How did he always seem to know where Draco was going? Or did he just follow him somehow? He’d go to the Library, to find Potter standing at one of the shelves, pulling out a book—often the very book he himself had come to retrieve. Other times, he’d go out to the gardens to wander among the flowers only to find Potter wandering towards him from the opposite direction. It was like he was somehow planning it!

And Draco’s mother didn’t seem to be helping in the least. She kept inviting Potter to have supper with the family. Worse, she kept smiling at the git and chatting with him as though he were any other guest they might have. After their second meal together, he pulled her aside to ask her why. “He is a guest, Draco. One must always treat guests well. Surely I’ve taught you that?”

Draco sighed, then let the matter drop. As it was, he did his best to ignore Potter as much as he could at any meals he appeared at, unless Potter asked him questions directly—which he seemed to do with alarming frequency. Some nights he had to go flying just to clear his head after. And even then, he worried he’d run into the git. It was absolutely unbearable.

Finally, Draco’d had enough. It had only been a week, but he needed to get away. He went to spend the weekend at Blaise’s, not bothering to let anyone know. 

He’d not told any of his friends about what the boy hero had asked of him, but Blaise was good at getting those sorts of details out of him. He’d had to swear Blaise to secrecy, and even after his friend had promised, Draco had had to endure quite a bit of teasing about it. 

Still, soon enough, Draco convinced his friend that they needed to go clubbing, and it was easy enough to get caught up in the music and lights and smoke and alcohol, and soon Draco felt the most relaxed he’d felt in ages.

Right up until the moment Potter appeared. How Potter had ended up in a place like this, Draco didn’t know. He hadn’t even known Potter _was_ gay. But there he was…dancing with a rather attractive young man wearing skin-tight—practically painted on—clothes, who seemed to have wandering hands. Potter kept brushing them away, though. Didn’t stop the git from dancing with the slut, though.

Draco scowled at the sight, then hurried off through the dancing crowd to find Blaise. “Come on. We’re out of here.”

Blaise blinked at him. “Draco…we just got here.” 

“Yes, well…the company’s suddenly got a bit too crowded for me,” Draco answered with a scowl in Potter’s direction.

Blaise turned and looked in the direction Draco was glaring and upon seeing Potter, he let out a laugh. “Oh, come on, Draco. He can’t be that bad, can he?”

“ _You_ don’t have to _live_ with him! Can we just go?”

“No! I want to talk to him. He doesn’t dance too bad for someone with two left feet,” Blaise mused. “Remember fourth year?”

“I’d rather not,” Draco returned sourly. He was tugging on Blaise’s arm, but it didn’t stop his friend from approaching the jet-haired young man, who was still dancing with painted-on clothes boy. 

“Potter,” Blaise greeted him with a bright grin.

“Zabini. Hey. And Draco. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Right, Potter,” Draco sneered. He knew that Potter had somehow planned this, but he wasn’t about to say so. “We were just leaving, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t leave on my account. Daniel and I were just about to find a more private spot to get to know each other better.”

Daniel turned, shaking a pale pink-and-blue streaked mop from his eyes. “Hey,” he said with the fakest grin Draco had seen in his existence. “Come on, Harry,” he said, draping himself over Harry’s shoulders. “I think I see a table in an alcove over there,” he said, pointing back towards the doorway that led to the more ‘private’ areas of the club. Draco couldn’t quite hold back a growl at that.

All three men glanced at Draco at the noise. “Are you okay, Draco?” Harry asked, looking concerned. 

“Never you mind, Potter.” He tugged on Blaise’s arm again. “Come on. We’re leaving. Or I’ll leave without you,” he told Blaise, barely able to hold back the snarl.

“Oh, all right. Good seeing you again, Potter,” Blaise said with a wave.

“And you, Zabini!” Harry called after them.

Draco was pleased to finally leave them behind, but the image of that boy draping himself over Potter didn’t leave his mind all weekend.

When Draco returned to the Manor, it was late Monday night. He snuck through the halls hoping that Potter would already be fast asleep. The door joining their rooms was ajar, but Draco was quick to close it, then moved to his wardrobe to peel out of his clothes. A quick shower, and then he stumbled to the bed, climbing in and shutting off the light before falling fast asleep.

It was a mistake he wished he’d never made the next morning when he woke to a body curled around his. Of course, at first, he didn’t quite realize just _who_ it was that was wrapped around him.

“Get off, Blaise,” he mumbled, shifting away, and still mostly asleep. “Go back to your own bed. Not in the mood. Told you.”

“Blaise?” a voice asked in his ear.

Draco went rigid, recognizing the voice immediately. “What. Are. You. Doing. Potter?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Well…I was sleeping. Then someone pushed at me.”

Draco turned to look at Potter, who looked charmingly sleep-rumpled in a way he really didn’t want to consider. “What are you doing in _my_ bed? You have your own! It’s perfectly fine. You don’t need to be here…”

Potter shrugged. “There was an accident. Spilled something on mine, so I decided to come in here and sleep while the elves fixed it, since you’ve been gone all weekend. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, I _do_ mind, so you can go _back_ to your own bed, Potter! Get out!”

“No need to shout,” Potter said, blinking at him owlishly and sitting up. “Time for me to get up, anyway. Auror training starts in an hour...” He slid out of bed, and Draco watched, wide-mouthed, as Potter padded, entirely naked, out of his room. 

Part of his brain was marveling over the fact that Potter was so fit, and another couldn’t get over those green eyes or the black rumpled hair. It took him at least ten minutes to gather himself enough to try to ignore the images and try to sleep once more, but after several minutes of tossing and turning, he gave up and got out of bed. Maybe there would be breakfast downstairs? And hopefully Potter would already be gone.

He dressed and walked downstairs, only to find Potter chatting amiably with his mother. It was unconscionable. Potter was taking everything from him! His home, his mother, his club, his bed… He viciously clamped down on the bit of his brain that assured him that it wouldn’t mind waking up to that rumpled hair and husky voice each morning.

“I thought you had to get to work, Potter?” he asked sourly.

“Actually, the trainer sent a note saying he wouldn’t be able to make it in until noon, so I’m in no rush,” Potter said with a pleased smile.

“Goody…” Draco said, plopping himself into his own chair.

“Don’t slouch, Draco, it’s not becoming,” Narcissa chided.

“Mother…” She raised an eyebrow, and Draco sighed. “Yes, mother,” he said, sitting up straighter, then spreading his napkin across his lap as his breakfast appeared. He dug into his food, trying desperately to ignore his mother and Potter’s chatting.

After a rather annoying breakfast, Draco went out with his broom, hoping to distract himself. It was great—right up until Potter caught up with him. “Still no training?” he asked him dully. 

“Nope,” he said with a grin.

“Don’t you ever get bored of being here?”

“Why would I? Gorgeous place.”

“Your friend was tortured here. Surely that’s got to have _some_ effect on how you feel here?”

“Well, yeah. I do stay out of that drawing room, but otherwise…I’m sure you’ve got memories here you’d rather forget…”

“Like this morning…” Draco muttered to himself.

“Now, there’s one I definitely don’t mind so much,” Potter responded with a grin, then he zoomed in front of Draco, did a loop on his broom, and was off in a flash.

Draco blinked after him. Now what in the hell was that supposed to mean? He sped after Potter, but his broom was still no match for Potter’s. It wasn’t fair. Time to upgrade, obviously. Maybe he’d go into London. The idea of getting away from Potter again made Draco smile, and he did a one-eighty, then swooped back towards the house.

Diagon Alley was rather quiet, as it was a weekday, and most people were working, so Draco was able to easily make his way to Quality Quidditch Supplies. The problem was, the latest brooms were all sub-standard compared to Potter’s. So how was Draco to best him if he couldn’t even catch up with him? It was ridiculous.

He consoled himself by going to the Leaky Cauldron and drowning his sorrows in a Firewhiskey or two, not even noticing at first when someone settled next to him.

“Is it really that bad?”

Draco looked up at the familiar voice and glowered at Potter. Normally, he’d have said nothing, but after more than a week of not being able to escape the git, plus this weekend, and even worse, this morning, the Firewhiskey seemed to be all that was needed to loosen his tongue. “Why can’t you just leave me alone? Aren’t we even yet?”

“What do you mean, Draco? I’m not trying to get even with you.”

“Then why?” Draco whined.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Potter looked so earnest, but Draco’s head was spinning, and all he could see were those bright green eyes.

“No! Why?”

“Potter! Shacklebolt’s looking for you!” a bloke who’d just entered called out. 

Potter’s face clouded at that. “Damn. Tonight, Draco. Okay?”

Draco watched after him, confused and upset. All he could do was hope that Potter meant what he’d said, and that he wouldn’t have to deal with this any more after tonight. He sighed, paid for his drinks, then apparated home.

It was a shockingly long afternoon. Draco had assumed that not having Potter pop up everywhere he went would be just what he wanted, but instead, he found time dragging. He kept finding himself looking about for Potter, waiting for him to appear, but no such luck.

Then, of course, he began to berate himself over the fact that he was actually _looking forward_ to seeing Potter again. It was ridiculous. He didn’t miss the git. He just wanted this over and done with. Now.

Still, it didn’t stop him from glancing up to look for him every five minutes. He tried reading, but got no further than a page or two before he gave up.

Finally, he took his broom and went out flying again. It was almost enough to distract him. Except for the flash of green eyes that he kept seeing every time he let himself relax. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway?

He stayed out flying until it was growing dark, then went up to his room for a long, hot shower, and dressed in one of his favourite robes to comfort himself. When he made it down to supper, his mother and Potter were chatting just as they had that morning, almost like they were the best of friends. Draco had a flash of irritation that Potter obviously hadn’t bothered to search him out when he came home _this_ time, when it would finally alleviate his suffering, remembering all the times he’d just randomly appeared where Draco’d been going. Still, he shook off his annoyance and sat down near his father, who looked about ready to blow as well.

“It’s all right, father,” Draco whispered, hoping to calm him. “He won’t be here much longer.”

Lucius turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You have a way of getting rid of him?”

“No. Not exactly. But…I think he’ll be gone, either way.” Or at least, he hoped so. If he was here much longer, Draco was certain he’d have to kill the git.

Supper dragged on, unendurably long, with Potter and Narcissa chatting amiably the entire time and completely ignoring the other two occupants of the table. Finally, when the last course was finished, Potter rose to his feet.

“Well, it was a long afternoon. I think I’ll go take a shower. Good night, all.”

Draco watched as Potter left the room, his mouth agape. He’d been expecting Potter to say _something_ to him, at least. Even just that he wanted to talk to him elsewhere. But not this…not ignoring him all evening. This was ridiculous! Potter had said he would explain! Throwing his napkin on the table, he got up and stormed after him. “Potter!”

Potter turned, halfway up the stairs. “Did you need something, Draco?”

“Stop these games already,” he growled, glaring at him.

“I’m not playing a game, Draco. I like being here. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Yes! You hate me! Why…” Draco stopped, confused. “Why?” he asked again.

Potter came back down the steps until they were face to face again. There was an expression in Potter’s eyes Draco had never seen before. He tried to ignore it. “Isn’t it obvious, Draco?”

Draco felt a sharp flash of annoyance—and possibly something else—lash through him. “No! You’ve been hounding me this whole time, and…I don’t understand. What do you want from me?”

Potter seemed sad, and sighed. “Look…” He shook his head. “I really do need a shower. Let me do that, then I’ll meet you in the sitting room across the hall from our rooms?”

The ‘our’ made Draco’s cheeks heat for some reason, but he nodded. “But if I don’t see you within a half hour, I’m coming to find you.”

Potter muttered something under his breath that sounded a bit like “finally,” but Draco couldn’t understand why he would say that. Then Potter nodded and made his way up the stairs. Draco watched after him until he disappeared from sight, then made his way to the library and retrieved a book to divert himself with before going to the sitting room, hoping that he would be a bit less distractible now.

The first few minutes felt like an hour all on their own, and finally Draco set a timer spell, just to stop himself from checking the clock every five minutes.

Potter showed five minutes before it would have gone off. Apparently, he’d been taking advice from someone about how to dress to impress. Tight jeans, a loose white shirt open at the neck and revealing flashes of his chest, which made Draco flush again and remind himself that this was _Potter_ , damn it! 

When Potter settled next to him, though, he found it hard enough to think, let alone remember Potter’s name.

“Draco…we’ve known each other for a long time…”

The words were enough to pull Draco out of his daze. Shifting, he scowled and rolled his eyes. “Oh, dear god, Potter. Starting off that way hardly lends me confidence…”

Potter huffed. “Just…let me talk?”

“Oh, go on babbling. If I fall asleep, feel free to ignore me…” Draco said with a smirk.

“But…see, that’s just it, Draco. I’ve never been able to ignore you. Not from day one.”

“Oh, I do apologize, Potter. So…what? You had to repay me by returning the favour?”

“God…Draco…no. I…did a lot of thinking. After the battle. What that meant. What _you_ meant to me.”

Draco felt his cheeks flush again. “To you? Potter that sounds…” It was difficult not to squirm. “What are you saying?”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to say? You’re not that dense, Draco. Surely you have some clue?”

“But…you hate me.”

“No. You infuriate me. But…not just…” Potter reached out to try to take Draco’s hand. “Maybe we could…”

Draco jumped up, pulling his hand from Potter’s grip, horrified. “No! You…no!” And with that, he ran from the room.

The next few days were spent avoiding Potter even more than he had before. And even avoiding meals, where he knew he would have to face Potter. Perhaps if he stayed away long enough, Potter would get bored and leave?

Unfortunately, Potter had always been tenacious. Even more than Draco remembered from school. He still followed Draco everywhere, though now he kept his distance, just watching. For some reason, that only seemed to make it feel even worse than before.

And so did the dreams Draco was having. As did the memory of that morning, waking to feel Potter wrapped around him. How…right it felt to him, now. And every time he thought that, Draco would grow disgusted with himself, and leave the house to find other distractions. But he was never gone for long. And Harry was always there when he returned.

Draco did consider enlisting his father’s help in ridding himself of Potter, but there was part of him that fought that. He convinced himself that it was because he was worried his father would do something unwise, and end up back in Azkaban.

So what could Draco do? Confront Potter, of course. After all, the git didn’t seem to be leaving on his own…

After dinner one night, almost a month after Potter had first arrived, Draco knocked at the door between their rooms. “Potter?”

There was some shuffling behind the door, then it opened slowly. “Draco?”

Draco tried not to meet those green eyes he’d always thought Potter didn’t deserve, even at the very beginning. “I want to speak to you.”

“Oh!” Draco could see a large range of emotion pass across Potter’s face, hope prominent among them. “Okay,” he said with a smile. “Where?”

“Here is fine.”

“You mean, your room?”

“No. Right here.”

Potter blinked, the hope fading in his eyes. “Oh. Well, what is it?”

“How much longer are you going to keep this up, knowing that I will never agree? That I will never want you…”

Potter’s eyes narrowed. “Never, Draco? Never’s a long time.”

“Please…I’ve always hated you.”

“No you haven’t, Draco.”

Draco huffed. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Diagon Alley. Madam Malkins. The Hogwarts Express, even. Are you saying someone twisted your arm for that?”

“I was eleven. Hardly the same thing.”

“No. But it’s a start. I’m willing to try, at least.”

“Well, I’m not. So leave, already.”

A smile grew on Potter’s face. “Why? Am I making you uncomfortable, Draco?”

“I thought that was a given, Potter. I do _hate_ you, after all…”

“Do you? Or are you just convincing yourself that you do?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, Potter. What I feel will never change. So you might as well pack up and go back to the Weasels and leave me be, because this is getting you nowhere.”

“Fine.” 

Draco’s heart leapt at that. “You’ll go?”

Potter nodded. “Yes.” Draco was about to shout for joy when Potter spoke again. “If…”

Draco didn’t like the sound of that. “If what, Potter? Go on. Spit it out.”

“If I can sleep in here with you for the night. I stay the night, and in the morning, if you really, honestly can’t feel a thing beyond disgust for _me_ , then I’ll leave.”

“What? No!”

“Then I’m not leaving,” Potter said with a smile and a shrug.

“You have to! I…” Draco took a deep breath. He was obviously not going to get anywhere this way. “One night. No touching?”

“I won’t initiate anything,” Potter assured him.

“Fine,” Draco sighed. He could surely manage that, right? “You don’t toss and turn, do you?”

Potter grinned. “Nope.” He moved to step into the room.

“Woah! I…need to get ready, first. It’s not even ten,” Draco said, stepping in front of him.

Potter nodded. “All right. I’ll go take a shower, then come back at ten, shall I?”

Draco sighed, but nodded as well. “Right. Make it a cold one. I don’t want you letching all over me, Potter.”

It was intended to annoy Potter, but he just laughed and turned away. “See you then, Draco.”

Draco waited until he heard the shower in Potter’s room turn on, then pulled the door closed. He had preparations to make…

When Potter knocked on the door at ten, Draco was wearing not only pyjamas and underwear, but also his thickest winter robe. He pulled open the door and waved Potter in, but the other man stood there, just staring at Draco. “Aren’t you…a bit warm?”

“I’m fine, Potter. Don’t worry about me. Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Potter was correct, of course, but even so, Draco wasn’t about to tell him that.

Draco let Potter move to the far side of the bed, then watched despite himself as he took off his robe. He was dressed only in a short night-shirt. It was a rather warm night, and Draco felt overheated already. He told himself that absolutely none of it had to do with how well-muscled Potter’s calves were. 

He moved to his own side of the bed, hanging his robe up before slipping under the covers, then, not looking at Potter at all, shut off the light. “Just…stay on your side, all right?”

“Of course, Draco,” Potter said, far too pleasantly. He settled in under the covers, and fell easily into sleep. Draco watched him with a scowl before rolling on his side and away from him so he wouldn’t have to see him.

* * *

Draco didn’t sleep all night. Every little noise, every slight move from Potter’s side of the bed kept him rigidly awake and aware. And his clothes were too warm. No matter how many cooling charms he cast. Finally, just as the sky began to turn pink, he fell into a light doze. 

He didn’t wake for several hours, and when he did, the cloth under his cheek, as soft as it was, didn’t feel like his pillow. And his legs were tangled around…something. And then there was that soft sound in his ear.

“Draco…”

Draco shifted, curling deeper into his pillow. Except that it didn’t give like a pillow. And it grunted. “Ow. Draco, please…”

Draco came fully awake at that. “Potter?” he asked cautiously.

“Were you sleeping with anyone else last night?” he responded, the chuckle there just on the edge of his words.

Draco pulled away, feeling his face flame. “Get…get out!”

“No.” Potter caught his wrist. “I didn’t seek you out in the night, Draco. You sought me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“No! I…would have done the same with anyone!” The truth was, he’d never been the sort to snuggle in his sleep, but he had to find some excuse for his behavior that Potter would believe.

“That right?” Potter asked with a slight smile. “So…then it wouldn’t bother you to know that you were... _very_ cuddly with me when you finally fell asleep?”

“And what does that mean, Potter?”

“Just that it was a good thing I had a good wank in the shower. I might have done more than just held you. Might have helped.”

Draco flushed when he realized what Potter was implying. “I didn’t!” Even as he denied it, though, he could feel the stickiness in his pants.

“Right. You were just…running…in your dream. Really vigorously. Against my leg.”

Feeling his cheeks heat even more, Draco huffed. “And what makes you think you were anything more than a convenient body, hm?”

Those green eyes of Potter’s darkened, and he moved closer, his look more intent now. “How about the fact that you called out my name at the end?”

“I didn’t!”

“How would you know? You were asleep.”

“I said ‘Potter’ in my sleep?”

“No.”

“See…?”

“You said ‘Harry.’”

For some reason, the words took the fight out of Draco. He pulled away, the vague memory of his dream tickling at the corners of his consciousness, the word far too familiar on his tongue, though this time he didn’t speak it. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t…”

Potter pulled him back, gentle but firm. “You did, Draco. Please…stop fighting this? Let me at least try?”

“I don’t…” Draco said weakly.

Potter pulled even closer, stroking his cheek gently. “Please,” he whispered.

Their faces were so close together now, and all it took was a slight shift, and Draco’s lips were brushing against Potter’s. Potter responded with a soft sigh, pressing back, but letting Draco lead the kiss. Draco opened his mouth, and found Potter echoing the move. His tongue slipped into the open and willing mouth, and it was all Draco could do not to groan. He pressed against Potter, the kiss increasing in intensity with every second that passed.

After a moment, Potter pulled reluctantly away. There was a great deal of wariness on his face. “Draco?”

So many feelings raced through Draco, and he battled with himself for several moments before looking up to meet Potter’s eyes once more. “What?” he asked softly.

“Can I…”

“What? Impose forever? Make a fool of me? Do this to me?” The words were bitter, but even Draco could hear the longing in them.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Draco. Not ever. I promise.” He pulled up Draco’s chin. “Just…give me a chance?”

So many answers came to Draco in response. It was easy to reject some, but others not as much. “And your friends? My family?”

“Your mother doesn’t seem to mind me…”

Draco glared at him. “I noticed. Exactly what potion did you give her to make her so docile?”

Potter laughed. “I didn’t. She approached me. I mean…after I moved in. She asked my intentions, and…apparently she liked what I told her.”

“And…what was that?”

“That…” Harry stroked his cheek again. “That I think I might…love you. That I certainly would, given time. That I wanted to make you happy.”

“Happy? You mean by haunting my steps, and tormenting me?”

Potter looked as though Draco had slapped him. “No. Is that what you think I was doing?”

“Yes!” Still, he couldn’t quite pull away any more, either. 

“I just…I’d hoped…if we could just spend time together…”

“So you forced yourself on me?”

“No.” Potter looked crestfallen now. He pulled away, and Draco felt bereft, but he looked at the bed rather than following him with his eyes. “Never mind. A promise is a promise. I’ll leave,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I tormented you, Draco. I never meant…” He sighed. “Good bye.”

And just like that, Potter was gone.

The following weeks, Draco tried to fall back into his normal patterns, but for some reason, he couldn’t recall what they were. The few he could remember no longer felt right. Like he didn’t fit. He felt awkward, and strange, and even clubbing with Blaise no longer helped to distract him.

Finally, Draco tried the only thing he could. He sought out Potter. It took him a few days, because he refused to go anywhere near the Weasleys’ hut, so he had to stake out the Ministry and hope he would run into Potter there.

Finally, on his third day of lurking in the Ministry atrium, Potter strode past, lost in his thoughts. It took three times of Draco calling out to him for Potter to hear him. When he saw who it was, his face clouded. “And what do you want, Malfoy?”

Being called by his last name stung a great deal more than he’d have otherwise expected. “I want to talk to you.”

The annoyed look turned even darker. “And I should care why, exactly?” Potter asked.

“You said you wanted to make me happy. I…” They’d both hurt each other so much over the years, but Draco had never considered what it would feel like to be the one to refuse Potter. They weren’t on an even slate. He’d done worse than Potter had on the Hogwarts Express. Apologies weren’t something he was accustomed to making, but he knew he’d have to try. “I…didn’t mean it. I was confused.”

“So?”

“I…know I don’t deserve a second chance, but…I’m asking.” He held out his hand. “Could…we start again?”

Potter looked surprised at this, then looked at Draco’s hand warily. “What do you mean by…start again?”

“I…I’d like…to try being…friends?”

Obviously that had been the wrong answer. Potter’s eyes went cold.

Before Potter could turn away, though, Draco caught his hand. “Or…” He licked his lips, and the fact that Harry’s eyes tracked the movement made Draco hope it might not be too late. “More?”

Potter tugged him close, and Draco noted a flash of annoyance that somewhere along the way, Potter had gotten taller than him. Not much, but enough that he had to look up into those bright green eyes. 

“How much more?” Potter asked softly.

Draco swallowed. “Uh…”

Potter was watching him, eyes narrowed, and Draco knew the next step would have to be his. His hand came up to curl around the back of Harry’s neck, then pressed his lips to Harry’s. And when he’d become Harry, he couldn’t remember, but the moment Harry’s lips responded to his, he knew he was forgiven. Maybe not of everything, but now they could at least work on the rest—together.

_Fin_


	3. Draco's Dreams Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's reaction to Of Promises, Frogs, and Princes, and an intro to Draco's second tale.

There was a long silence when Draco finished. When Harry finally spoke, he was as horrified as Draco had expected he would be. “Wait…I…kissed you?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” Draco asked with a huff. He should never have told him, honestly. Coming here had been a horrible idea.

But Harry kept going, as though one exclamation of horror hadn't been enough. “And I snuck into your bed? Why would I do that?”

“How should I know that, Potter? I can’t get into your head!” Draco felt brittle and ready to snap. If Potter was having this much trouble with the first story… “Look…forget I said anything. I should go,” he said, standing up.

“Wait a minute!” Potter grabbed his wrist.

“Let go of me, Potter…let me out.”

“No…” Potter realized what he'd done and dropped his hand, flushing slightly. “I’m sorry…I just…are…they all like that?”

“Weren’t you listening? I told you! They…get worse.”

Potter’s eyes went wide at that. “Worse? Is that…possible?”

“Trust me when I say yes,” Draco answered through clenched teeth.

“How bad can it get? Do we…” Potter paled, unable to even say what he wanted.

Draco felt his face heat, then sank back down to the couch, head down. “We do all sorts of things,” he muttered.

“In the next one?”

“No. That one’s…not quite as bad. Almost normal. Except for your…obsession with me.”

“I don't—!”

“In the _dream_ , Potter.”

“Oh…right.” Potter’s cheeks flushed. “I’m obsessed with you in that one?”

Draco nodded. “So you force father to insist that I come live with you…”


	4. The Nightengale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Obsession and its dangers.

Obsession is a dangerous thing. Most people know this. But sometimes, the obsession can be reworked into something more. This tale tells how such a thing can happen.

Once there was a boy who had always been obsessed with bettering his rival, until the day when his family’s survival overrode everything else. But then the rival became obsessed with the first boy, and between the two, obsession slowly grew, until they were finished with their schooling, in the real world, and seemed to separate forever.

But forever ends quicker than most people think. Particularly in terms of “happily ever after.”

It all started at a celebration of the ending of a war. It had been a year, and their world was healing. Both boys had taken part in the war, and both had been on opposite sides, but both had ended up on the same side at the very end, and so both were at the celebration.

Let me introduce them to you:

There. That blond in the sleek and expensive outfit, dancing with everyone and settling on no one? That is Draco. He likes to pretend he is happy, but he knows something is missing. Though he would never deign to notice his one-time-obsession. Or ever guess that that obsession might now be obsessed with him. 

And over there? In the corner with the red-headed boy and his girlfriend with the fall of thick curly hair? That is Harry. He is beginning to realize that his friend Ron’s sister is simply no longer what he wants. Draco is.

And a third player in our little drama. There. The girl with the long red hair as red as the bloke sitting with his girlfriend and with Harry? That is Ginny, the selfsame Ron's sister. She’s dancing with all her old boyfriends, in the hopes that Harry will notice and be jealous.

And Harry is jealous, that’s certain. But not of Ginny. He wants Draco. Wants him to stop dancing with others, and dance only for him.

So, when Harry appears a few days later on the grounds of Malfoy Manor, which is Draco’s ancestral estate, it should surprise none of us.

What might surprise some is that for once, he has no fear of this place, though he should. But then, he is a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors laugh at danger, do they not? Particularly when they are coming to beard a dragon in its den, as it were.

He knocks at the door, and someone lets him in—after a long and awkward moment of distrust. Shall we follow him inside?

The tall, regal man who faces Harry is Draco’s father, Lucius. “What do you want with us, Potter? I have paid my debt to society, and my son and wife were ruled free of any wrongdoing.”

“Yes, Malfoy. Because of me. You and they are free because of me, and you know it. Where is Draco?”

“I was not aware that my son was on house arrest, Potter.”

“He’s not. I just…” Harry looks around, as though he hopes Draco will pop out and shout ‘surprise!’ but he does not. “I wanted to talk to you about him.”

“About my son? And what is it you would like to tell me about my son?” Lucius’s voice is cold and unimpressed, but if one listens carefully, one can detect a note of unease or concern beneath it.

“Your family owes me, Malfoy. And if your son is to have any future in our world, he’d do well to cultivate new friends. I can help him with that.”

“You. Help Draco? And why would you do that? Even more importantly, how?”

“I think he should come live with me. Spend some time with me and my circle of friends. Instead of acting like a constant letch like he does. You do want him to be accepted, don’t you? This way I repay what your wife did for me, and he and I can work on what your family owes me. A fair arrangement, don’t you think?”

Lucius’s rage is barely restrained now, but Harry seems not to care. “He is my son, not a sack of meat, Potter! I won’t let you…use him.”

“I will not do anything to him, sir. At least, nothing that he doesn't want. I just think spending time together might be good for both of us.”

“And if he wishes to leave?”

“So long as he stays at least a month, I will consider our debt fulfilled.”

Lucius purses his lips. “Very well. I will…talk to my son.”

“If I do not see him within a week, I will return,” Harry warns him.

Lucius nods. “I will…send him to you.”

“Good.”

And so we see Harry take his leave. But we cannot help but wonder how the Malfoy heir will react to being required to live with his former obsession? Will he be able, in any way, to stand the thought? Can the two live together even a day and not kill one another? 

Stay tuned, dear reader, the answers are forthcoming.

* * *

Not even two full days later, we find a rumpled and rather annoyed Draco on Harry’s front doorstep. We can only imagine the fight he must have had with his father. Likely it was loud enough to scare many of their house elves into hiding. A little bird told me that some were so scared that they will even disappear for days. But we all know that the Malfoy heir cares nothing for that. Rather, he wishes to know why his long-time rival has suddenly showed such an interest in him.

We watch as Harry opens the door, and can see his expression soften with pleasure when he finds Draco there. “Dr—Malfoy. I’m glad you could come.” He opens the door wider and steps aside to let Draco in.

But Draco isn't so easily won over with pleasant words, dear reader. “I wasn’t aware that I had a choice. Father said something about family honour. Let’s just get this over with, shall we? So…where is my room?”

Let's follow as Harry leads him to a room in the large flat he’s bought for himself with the money from both his inheritances, and watch as Draco looks around, sniffing, then dumping his bag in the centre of the bed. “Well?”

“Well what, Malfoy?” 

“What next? You obviously have something planned, or you wouldn’t have bothered asking me to stay here.”

“Right…” Harry seems at a loss, but he smiles at Draco, his heart on his sleeve for the other to see, if only he cared to look. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen and I can make us a late lunch? Unless you’ve eaten?”

But Draco seems unaware of anything more than his own annoyance, and scowls at him. “I suppose.”

Though at first it seems Harry might actually be able to get through to Draco, over the course of the next few days, we see just how stubborn Draco can be. Harry keeps trying, true to his Gryffindor determination. He shows him his library, which Draco sniffs at for being too Muggle; shows him his electronics, which Draco avoids, acting as though they are about to pounce upon him and bite him; then finally, Harry offers to throw a party in Draco’s honour.

“And who would I want to talk to at a party _you_ threw, Potter? Honestly. Why don’t you throw your party, and I’ll go to the club, and we can both have our own good time?”

“That’s not the point, Malfoy. The point is to get you talking to people who might actually be friendly with you if you weren’t such an arse.”

“Right. And that’s supposed to make me want to meet them?” Draco scowls at Harry, then stalks to his room, and all Harry can do is watch him go, and sigh. Do you empathize with his plight yet, dear reader?

Certainly, none of Harry's friends understand his need to reform Draco. He may well need your empathy, as they seem to have none in this regard. Not only that, but Draco continues to make Harry's life difficult. When Harry tries to take Draco out to get groceries, he complains the entire time. Especially because they go to a Muggle grocer rather than sending the house-elf to a magical one.

“The food is no different, Malfoy,” Harry assures him. But Draco will have none of it, and when they return to the flat, he locks himself in his room for the night.

The only time we see the Malfoy heir cave a little is at breakfast. When Malfoy arrives, he tries to sleep till noon, but Harry has always been an early riser. At first he tries to wake him by tapping on the door, but he soon learns that the smell of coffee and bacon will pull Draco from his bed far sooner than any request, however kind. Draco always comes to the table bleary-eyed and grumpy, but he always comes, and can any of us truly blame him?

Harry likes to think of it as an improvement. But we are far less deluded, and can see quite plainly that it is the only improvement. We are not so blinded to the fact that the two have constant fights. 

Particularly when it comes to one thing: Draco wants to go out, but Harry would rather stay home. The two fight daily about it. Draco screams and rails at him, but Harry will not budge. He does not want to see Draco with other men. He doesn’t say this, of course, but we know that is his reasoning.

Then, too, Harry wants his friends to visit, but their attitude towards Draco shows just what they think of him, and Draco’s attitude towards them is little better. So Harry eventually asks them to stay away. Too bad Draco doesn’t seem at all grateful for his sacrifice.

Time wears on as it does, and the memory of the celebration fades for Harry, and we see that Draco’s complaints are beginning to grate on Harry’s nerves. Even their mornings together seem to be less and less pleasant. Afterwards, Harry goes off to work, and Draco locks himself in his room, and nothing ever truly seems to change.

Finally, at the end of the month, Harry has admitted to himself that he cannot have what he truly wants. It is heartbreaking to see his realization. But we can see that Draco will never bend, and that Harry will never break him to get what he wants. So instead, he goes to knock on the other man’s door.

Draco's voice through the door is not at all welcoming. Not that any of us should have expected that. “Go away, Potter. I don’t care what kind of inanity you’ve thought up to make us friends, it won’t work.”

“You’re right,” Harry says softly.

That is when the door opens, and Draco looks out at him. The startled look on his face says everything we need to know. “I am?”

He doesn't seem to see the dejection on Harry's face. But we can. “Yeah. I thought this would work, but…you’re unhappy. I’m unhappy. It’s better if I just let you go home.”

And now, Draco glares at him suspiciously. “All debts settled, then?”

Harry nods slowly, his shoulders slumping. If only we could give him a hug. “All debts settled.” Draco doesn’t seem to notice his dejection. He’s too pleased that he has been given permission to leave.

In only a matter of moments, Draco appears in the living room of the flat, his bags beside him. “See you around, Potter,” he says, and then he is gone.

And only we are left to witness Harry's face crumple. He stays alone in the living room for a very long time.

* * *

See now, here is Draco again. Free as any bird. He should be happy. So why, then, does he look as if he’s eaten a particularly sour lemon?

Well, let us turn a bit and we will see the reason. Look, there is Harry. And see who that is on his arm? Why it’s the very Ginny who wanted so badly to get his attention!

But why is it that Draco seems so upset by this sight? Surely he should be happy, or at least care not at all, given that he was in such a rush to get away from Harry? 

Perhaps there is something he overheard? Let us go see what Harry and Ginny are talking about…

“Look at that one, Harry,” Ginny is saying, pointing at a long, white gown in a shop window. “Wouldn’t I be spectacular in that?”

“You’ll be a gorgeous bride in whatever you wear,” Harry tells her. And yet, his voice is flat when he responds. He does not seem happy at this coming wedding they are speaking of. Should not every young man who is to marry his school days sweetheart be pleased?

And why is it that this sight, of all things—his rival and his rival’s fiancée—makes Draco so upset? Why would he care what they do? But he does.

Look at this. Ginny has turned to lead Harry to the bakery, and the two rivals come face to face.

For the first time, we see Harry's expression come alive at the sight of the other man. “Draco…”

The blond seems not to want to answer, but he has been caught peeking, so he nods at the happy couple. “Potter. Weasley. I hear congratulations are in order?”

See now how Harry flushes. Not the usual action of a happy man. But he manages a smile for his rival. “Yes. Thank you. How are you doing these days?”

Ah, and there is the famed Malfoy glare. “Free.” And with that word, Draco makes his way down the street, forgetting whatever reason he had come to shop in the first place. It will only be when he returns to his own over-quiet flat that he will remember that he needed to get a few new potions. He promises himself he will go tomorrow—when Potter and his girlfriend (that’s fiancée, he reminds himself) are no longer there.

But as days pass, see the news articles appear. Each is greeted with greater temper by the Malfoy heir, and soon he can stand it no longer. Watch as he dresses to kill—he so wishes it could be literally, but he knows that he cannot.

Instead, watch him walk the London streets until he arrives at Harry’s flat. And look at the shocked look on Harry’s face when he sees who is at the door. “Draco?”

“Potter. I came to offer my congratulations.”

We can easily see that Harry doesn’t believe him. “You already did that, Malfoy. What’s going on?”

Draco’s unease seems palpable, and for a moment, we can tell that he is ready to flee. “I…”

But Harry seems unwilling to see or hear now. The month spent with Draco seems to have drained him of something—hope, perhaps? “Whatever this is about, Malfoy…just…leave it.” And he closes the door in Draco’s face.

Draco doesn’t seem too pleased at the dismissal, but it should be obvious to anyone who watches that there is more to it. Particularly when he returns home to the Manor rather than to his flat, and proceeds to hide from the world.

Draco might be upset, but Ginny seems to believe that finally all is right in the world. She plots and imagines, talking to her Harry every day about their plans (her plans, of course) for their upcoming wedding, and failing to notice his ever-increasing discontent.

By the day of the wedding, anyone with eyes can see that Harry is having second, or possibly even third, fourth or fifth thoughts. He is very unhappy, despite his best friends’ encouragement that it is nothing more than nerves. It is only the sight of Draco arriving for the wedding that finally draws him out of his funk. Not only is it the first time he has seen Draco since the day the blond came to see him at his flat, but it is also the first time Draco has been seen in public since that day.

“Draco.” Harry looks stunned. Possibly even lost.

“Potter.” Draco doesn't look much better. He actually looks as though he has not even seen sun since that day. He is pale, and if we look close, we can see there are bags under his eyes, highlighted by dark smudges. “Happy day. I’ll just go find myself a seat, shall I?”

Harry catches his arm. “No.”

Unfortunately, this does not go over well, and we can see the temper rising in Draco. “No? You don’t want me here? Perhaps you feel a touch uncomfortable having me here?”

“No. It’s not that. I…” He glances back at the room where he changed, then to Draco once more. “Could you…wait in the dressing room there? I…need to go talk to someone. But…then I’d like to talk to you. If…I can?”

We can see that Draco looks shocked and confused at this request, but after a moment, he nods, and the agreement brings the first smile in days to Harry’s face. “Right. I’ll…be right back again.” And then he is gone.

Draco makes his way into the small room, and we can see he is uneasy, but there seems more spring in his step than there had been when he first arrived upon the scene. When Harry returns, Draco is settled in a chair in front of the fire. Harry approaches him uncertainly, but finally manages to find words. “Could…we start again, maybe?”

Uncertain, Draco watches him, his gaze wary. “Start what, Potter?”

“Everything.”

“What about your wedding?”

“There isn’t going to be one.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It seems…there was someone else.”

If we look close, we can see this news surprises Draco, but he hides it well. “Indeed? I’m sorry.”

Harry lets the silence grow for a long time before answering. “I’m not. So…can we?”

And we see that Draco understands now—perfectly—that it is he who is the someone else. He smiles softly. “Yeah.” He stands, but before he can hold out his hand, Harry beats him to it.

“Harry Potter,” he says, his tone hopeful.

Draco doesn't seem startled at all at Harry's acting as though this is the first time they have met. He smiles, his fingers curling around Harry’s hand. “Draco. Malfoy. Very good to meet you…Harry.”

And they all (yes, even Ginny, who proceeds to date another Gryffindor schoolmate, Neville Longbottom, and they marry and have six children.) live happily ever after.

 

_If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was. – **Chinese Proverb**_


	5. Draco's Dreams Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk some more, and Harry convinces Draco to continue

“Okay…I see what you mean by obsessed…but I’m not the only one…”

“I didn’t say you were,” Draco said sharply, no longer able to meet Potter’s eyes.

“Why I’d give up Ginny for you, though…”

Draco turned to glower at him. “No one asked you to, Potter.” 

“Right…never mind that it’s _your_ dream…”

“Fuck you, Potter.” Draco stood up, turning to move toward the door.

But Potter was after him in a flash, grabbing his arm. “No…I don’t think so, Draco…”

“Draco?” Draco turned to glare at him, and Potter dropped his hand. But the touch wasn’t what had really upset him. Potter calling him by hi first name was something he had to discourage _now_. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to pretend it didn’t affect him for long if it continued. “Let’s get this straight, Potter. Dreams or not? We are not friends. You made that decision a long time ago.”

“ _I_ made that decision? Draco…Malfoy,” Harry said, switching names with a sigh at another glare from Draco. “I only did what any kid would have done. Protected his friend from a bully. It’s not my fault you were a git.”

Draco kept glowering at him for a long moment, then gave it up for a lost cause. He nodded instead, then moved to pick up his wand. “Right. Let me out.”

“No, wait…” Harry sagged. “I…want to hear more.” 

That was a surprise. Draco turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “You do? Why?”

Meeting Draco’s eyes, Potter shrugged. “Dunno. I just do…Please don’t go?”

It was a ground-shaking moment for Draco. Harry Potter had just said please to him. It was enough to shock him into returning to the couch and settling there once more. “All right.”

“So…did the next take place at my house, or yours?” Potter wanted to know.

Draco felt his cheeks heat, knowing how the next would sound to Potter. But he forced out the words. “Neither. It…I was a prince.”

“A prince?” Potter looked almost like he wanted to snicker, but he didn’t, so Draco did his best not to glare at him. Instead, he focused on the next dream.

“I was. And…my father wasn’t too pleased with me…”


	6. Peasant or King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Draco has refused every suitor who has come to court him. So his father betrothes him to the next man to ask for his hand--a poor beggar who goes by the name of Potter.

Once there was a king who had a very picky, prickly son. The king had long given up hope that his only heir would marry a girl and settle down to have an heir of his own. He was simply too interested in men, so his father had promised to make whoever married his son heir to his kingdom, be they king or peasant.

His son, Draco, was not too pleased with this proclamation, feeling he was too young to marry just yet, and swore to himself and his closest friends that he would never marry if he could help it.

Unfortunately for Draco, his father’s patience was soon at an end with the way he treated each man who came to court him, and all the flaws his son found with them. With each suitor, his patience grew thinner. Finally, his patience could take no more.

One day, a young king came to court Draco for his own. The king was from a far-distant kingdom called Gryffindor, and he had traveled a great distance to meet the prince and woo him. Upon arriving, he went directly to the throne room to meet the king and his son. When Draco saw the state of the man, he refused even to speak with him. The king’s hair was grubby and bedraggled, and a thick beard covered his face. Even worse, he still wore his stained traveling leathers.

Turned quickly to turn to his father. “Look at him. He couldn’t even be bothered to change before coming to see us, father. He is hardly a worthy spouse for your only heir.”

Anyone else would have cowered from the look King Lucius shot at his son. But not Draco. He met his father’s eyes, certain he would agree. It was possibly the worst mistake Draco had made in a long line of mistakes. Finally, the king drew himself up and turned to the King of Gryffindor. “I apologize for my son’s behavior, and that you had to travel such a distance to witness such behavior. However, I will spare you the fate of having to deal with him again. I hope you will at least take your rest here in the palace before you return to your own kingdom.”

The king looked from Draco to his father, looking disappointed despite the prince’s rudeness, but nodded. “Thank you. I will. Nor would I hold a child’s attitude against his father.” He bowed slightly. “And thank you for the hospitality, Sire.” And with that, he left the room.

Draco stood to leave as well, but Lucius was not finished chastising his son. Neither son nor father noticed that the door had been left open a small gap, nor did they notice that there was someone just outside listening to every word that was said.

Lucius’s hand curled around his son’s upper arm. “That is enough, Draco. This is the last time.”

Startled, Draco looked up at his father. “Father…?”

“No! I have put up with your tantrums and insults to our guests long enough. You will marry who I say. And I say you will marry the next man to come through those doors, be he peasant or king.”

“You wouldn’t!” Draco tried to tug away from his father’s grip. “I am your heir!” 

“Yes. But apparently I neglected to teach you one thing—that even kings must have humility.”

“How can you say that? Everything I ever learned from you says that I must have dignity. Grace. That I must never cave under pressure. You have never said that I must bow and scrape to others!”

“Ah, but at no time did I tell you that you were above all, Draco. You are a being of this world, just as others are. And you must find a way to reconcile yourself to that. Otherwise, yours will be a lonely and short existence. People do not like being insulted. No matter who does the insulting.”

“Father…”

But unbeknownst to the two arguing, another person had entered the room, and he chose this moment to clear his throat. The two turned, and Draco’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the bedraggled man before them. His clothing was made more of patches than of whole cloth, and his hair was horribly bedraggled—or at least, the bits of it he could see beneath the peasant’s cap was. And horribly greasy from not being washed for some time.

“Father…please tell me…” he whispered.

Unfortunately, Lucius knew he could not back down now. Whoever this man was, this was who his son would marry. He gathered his dignity best he could and greeted the man. “Welcome, stranger. And what can I do for you?”

“I am here to claim your son. I heard that you would make king whoever married your son, no matter who they might be.”

King Lucius tried not to frown at this pronouncement, but there was nothing he could do. Draco would have to learn that he had made his own choices, and this was what had come of it. He would worry about what would come once his son had learned his lesson. If that did not happen, well, he would have to find another heir anyway. He nodded. “And so I shall. And your name, sir?”

A gap-toothed grin was shot at him. “Potter, sire.”

“Well, mister Potter, it seems that you will marry my son. I will have the preparations started immediately.”

“Actually, sire, if you do not mind, I would like to marry him in my own kingdom.”

“And where is that?” 

“Gryffindor, sire.”

The king raised an eyebrow at this. “Indeed? You arrived with your king?” 

Potter nodded. “He was gracious enough to allow a poor craftsman to tag along with his group. But we will be traveling back alone. I hear that he and his entourage have decided to stay on for a few days?”

The King nodded. “He has.”

“Then I am afraid we will have to return without them. I have work to attend to, and I intend to bring my betrothed with me,” he said, turning a leer in Draco’s direction.

Draco shrank back, horrified at the very thought. “Father, please…”

Lucius ignored him. “Very well. We will prepare a guard and a few servants to go with you and help you on the road, as you will have gifts for your impending nuptials to take back with you.”

Potter shook his head. “Ah, that will be unnecessary, sire. Simply stack them in a wooden cart, and my betrothed can tow it.”

“Tow it!” Draco squawked. 

“Everyone in my family must earn their keep,” Potter said to him with a smirk.

Lucius watched this interaction with interest and not a small bit of worry. He had hoped to teach his son a lesson, but perhaps he had gone too far? Still, it was too late to back down now. “Very well, Potter. I will have a wagon prepared. Food and gifts as befitting the heir. And when the time comes…”

“We will return, sire,” Potter said with a gracious smile.

Lucius tried to let the smile calm his growing anxieties. Draco just shuddered.

* * *

The trip to the Kingdom of Gryffindor was the worst trip of Draco’s life. He had traveled to many of the kingdoms neighboring Slytherin, but never during any of those trips had been without his own personal comforts, even while traveling. He’d certainly never had to walk more than a few feet, nor expected to carry so much as a saddle bag on his own. And this trip wasn’t just for a day, but several in a row, with only a night of rest in between. It was unfathomable. Impossible.

Potter seemed to have no pity. He refused to stop or slow when Draco demanded to, or when he said he wouldn’t be able to move another step. At night, even though Draco’s father had packed feather beds and comforters for each of them, he refused to let Draco use one. “If we use them out here in the wilds, who knows what could happen to them? They’d likely be forever ruined.”

“If I don’t use one, then _I_ will be forever ruined!” Draco shouted. 

All to no avail, though. Potter shrugged. “You need the toughening up, pretty boy. Now get some sleep. You’ll need it if you’re going to pull the wagon again tomorrow.”

Horrified at the words, Draco looked at Potter, who had already curled up under his patchy cloak, seemingly unconcerned. He’d thought the man was kidding that he’d make him tow it all the way. Apparently not. Already his arms felt like they were on fire. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive towing it even one more mile, let alone all the way to his new home.

He had no clue how he was going to fall asleep with his whole body aching the way it was, but he must have, for suddenly there was the bright light of the sun in his eyes, and a shadow standing over him. “Come on, pretty boy. Time to get moving. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

Draco groaned and sat up, then gasped as his arms seized up from the unfamiliar workout they’d been put through the day before. “Oh, god…” 

He rocked on the ground for a moment, but Potter seemed to have no compassion whatsoever. “Get up, or I will get you up and lash the thing to your waist, pretty boy.”

Whimpering, Draco stumbled to his feet, though all he wanted to do was curl into a ball where he lay. When he took hold of the handles for the cart, he whimpered again as his aching fingers closed around them as tight as he could manage.

Only once he had a good hold did Potter speak again. “Good. Now, come on.”

“What about breakfast?”

Potter shrugged as he led the way to the road once more. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to disturb you, Draco.”

Draco felt his stomach protest. He’d never gone more than twelve hours without food, and that only when he had not felt like eating, not because he had not been allowed. “But I’m starving!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have turned your nose up at the rabbit stew last night, then?”

Draco scowled. It wasn’t his fault Potter had refused to use some of the food the kitchens had packed, but he’d insisted that they keep the food for their first night in Draco’s new home. Instead, Draco had only had a scrap of bread and some water for his supper the night before, glowering at Potter the entire time.

He promised himself he would just ask for seconds during their lunch break.

Still, lunch was a long ways away, and before even the first hour was up, Draco was certain he would collapse without _something_. “Potter, please…can’t I have a bit to eat? Or to drink? Anything?”

Potter turned to look at him from where he was walking ahead of him. “Well, of course, Draco.” He took the water skin off his belt and held it out to Draco, who blinked at it. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to close his fingers around it. What he was sure of was that the water would not fill his stomach.

“Water?”

“Unfortunately it’s all I have available right now. The food is packed away in the wagon, and it would be too much hassle to dig it out. And we don’t have time to stop and hunt for anything…”

Draco sighed, then reached out for the water skin, wincing as he tried to open the thing, then took several large swallows before handing it back. “When will we stop for lunch?” he asked.

“Not sure. Might just go long to try to get as far as we can…”

“Oh, please…I can barely keep going as it is!”

“All right. We’ll stop. We can have sandwiches.”

Right now, sandwiches sounded like a feast to Draco, so he nodded, almost smiling at that. “Thank you.” Now all he had to do was last until Potter decided to stop. He could do that, at least. Right?

As their travels dragged on, Draco was certain he would die. Of heatstroke. Or possibly splinters and blisters. The bottoms of his feet felt like one solid blister. And when he’d taken off his shoes the night before, he’d been certain he’d seen some blood. Not to mention the state of his beautiful hands. His well-manicured nails were now ragged and broken where they hadn’t torn off completely. His hands looked no better than any common peasant’s already. It was horrific.

Potter had scoffed at Draco’s complaints. “As long as you can still walk, you’re fine, Draco. Now here, have some of this rat. It’s quite tasty when roasted well.”

If the walking didn’t do it, or the sun, Draco was beginning to think that Potter’s “food” would. But he’d learned his lesson. He always tried to eat a bit at each meal he was allowed, even if he felt as though he were about to throw it right back up. He had to, or he knew he’d never make it. And then how could he send a letter back to his father telling him how this man was torturing him into an early grave? How could he rule their kingdom if he was dead?

Still, just when Draco was certain his fingers _and_ his feet were about to fall off, they arrived. Unfortunately, when he saw the peasant’s home, he began to wish the trip had never ended. Better that than to live in a place like this.

The place that Potter called his home looked as though it might have once been the home to very over-indulged pigs, but the creatures had moved out when it began to fall apart. The walls were spattered with mud where there weren’t holes most of the way through the plaster and wood. It was teetering to one side, as though a light breeze might knock it over. Worse, it looked like the place wouldn’t be large enough to hold more than one room. “That’s your house?” he asked Potter, horrified.

“That’s her. Beauty, ain’t she?” he asked with another one of those toothy grins that showed the yellow of his teeth, along with a few gaps, making Draco shudder.

“Not exactly the words I would use,” Draco managed in a mutter.

“Ah, well, you’ll prettify the place up, now, won’t you?” Potter asked. “Come on. I’m just aching to try out those down mattresses your father gave us. And in the morning, it’s to market.”

“To buy things to freshen up the place and to eat?” Draco asked hopefully.

“Of course not. I’m going to sell it all. Well…except for the beds…”

“What? But…those are _my_ things!”

Potter shook his head. “Actually, your father gave them to me. And…well…you see how small my home is. It’s not like all of it could fit in there anyway…”

“But…but…” Draco watched as Potter pulled the wagon to the door and began to unpack the mattresses and comforters, then pulled the wagon to the side yard. Sighing, Draco trudged into the house, barely able to pick up his feet any longer, then collapsed on the nearby bed, and was asleep in a flash.

He was woken at dawn by the sound of a rooster. Not that he knew it was a rooster. Just that it was the rudest bird he’d ever had his misfortune to meet.

“Bloody thing!” he cried, throwing a boot out the window.

“You do realize those are your only shoes, right?” Potter asked cheerily from the fireplace, where he was stirring up a pot.

“Food?” Draco asked, ignoring the question for now, and stumbling over to where Potter sat.

“Yep. Porridge.” He held up a bowl, then ladled a large serving in and handed it to Draco, who wrinkled his nose at the grey, lumpy mess.

“This is…food?”

“Fill your stomach and keep you warm until lunch, at least,” Potter said, and Draco nodded and sighed, picking up a spoonful to take a bite. Bland, but not horrible tasting. Just a bit slimy, though, he thought.

As soon as Potter had finished his own bowlful, he stood up and dropped his bowl and utensil near Draco. “So, while I’m at the market, I’ll need you to clean the dishes and sweep out the place. And don’t forget to wash our clothes from the travel, pretty boy.”

“Wash? Sweep? You’re kidding, right?” Draco’d never had to so much as brush lint off his clothes before. He had no clue even how to go about it.

Potter shook his head. “Of course not. Someone has to do it, after all, and I’m going to be busy selling all those pretty things your father gave us.”

“But…we’re meant to use those for our…wedding,” he managed to get out. “I’m a prince. We should be having an extravagant feast and celebration!”

Potter shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t afford that, Draco. But if you’re good, I might offer to send for your father when the time comes…”

Draco blinked rapidly, barely fighting back the prickling in his eyes. This was utterly horrific. He couldn’t live this way! “May…I send a letter to my father?”

“You can. But he won’t get it for a month, I’m afraid. The mail doesn’t go out until next week, and it will take several weeks before it reaches Slytherin, because it has several stops to make before it even reaches Gryffindor’s borders.”

Draco closed his eyes, nodding. So he’d have to last that long, at least. He didn’t want to, but until he could think of another way, at least he knew that was an opportunity. “All right. How…do I wash clothes?” Washing dishes seemed like it would be simple enough. Get them wet. But he had a feeling that washing clothes was a bit more complicated.

It was. Potter gave him instructions, most of which went entirely over his head, then left for the day, taking the cart with him. Draco sighed and decided to start with the dishes and the sweeping. Hopefully those would be easy enough, at least.

* * *

Never before had Draco felt any sort of compassion or empathy for his servants. After all, not only was it their duty to tend him and make certain he was clean, well-dressed, and fed, but it was actually a blessing to any peasant given a job in the palace at all. But now, if he’d had even one servant with him, he’d gladly have bowed down before them if only they would help him with the monumental tasks Potter had assigned him. He might even stoop so low as to kiss their feet. Depending on how helpful they were, of course.

The dishes had seemed simple enough—right until the moment he’d pulled the bowl from the water and noticed that it had food still clinging to it. And not only that, but that there was food along the outside of the stupid thing as well, now. He’d stuck it back in the water, wincing with disgust as he put his hands in the dirty pail with it, then began to try to wipe it clean under the water.

By the time the dishes were vaguely clean enough, Draco felt like a year-long bath wouldn’t be enough to make him feel clean. And he still had two more chores to accomplish. He sighed, then picked up a broom. But this task went little better. After all, the floor seemed to be made of packed dirt. So how was he to know when it was clean? It seemed a never-ending task.

And the clothes? That was true hell. Potter had pointed to the soap, a goopy syrup to pour onto the clothes after he’d gotten them wet, but when they were in the tub, he couldn’t tell if anything was coming out, and when he tried to scrub them, he couldn’t find a discernable difference either before or after.

Finally, he threw the wet clothes over a line. It would have to do. And apparently it had taken all day to do. The sun was beginning to set. He hadn’t even noticed the time in the midst of his chores, but now his stomach grumbled. He’d been so distracted by the futility of the chores Potter had given him that he hadn’t even stopped for lunch. All he could do was hope Potter would be home soon with food for them both. He stumbled to his bed, and though he tried to wait for Potter to reappear, he soon fell fast asleep.

It seemed he dreamed, as there was a whisper somewhere in his memory. “Silly boy. You don’t have to make it this difficult on yourself…” He felt someone draw a cover around his shoulders, and he snuggled deeper under the warmth, sinking deeper into sleep

When he woke, it was morning. He could barely move from his sore muscles, and his stomach was demanding food— _now_! He blinked open crusty eyes to see Potter standing over him. “You didn’t even make supper last night. When I came home, you were fast asleep. What happened?”

Draco gaped up at him. What was he supposed to say? He’d never so much as roasted a vegetable before in his life. And Potter could hardly consider it his fault that he’d been so exhausted from the chores the man had given him to do that he’d not cooked.

“Never mind. Just remember to have something waiting for me when I get home tonight. You did such a great job with our clothes that I offered your services to the King for his wedding banquet. So you’ll need to go to the servants’ entrance of the palace and retrieve the tablecloths and napkins, wash them, then return them before nightfall. And don’t forget to make something for us to eat for supper!” And then Potter was gone before Draco could protest.

Staring after his betrothed for several minutes, gaping, Draco found himself wondering who the King had chosen in his place, and if they in any way compared to him. It took several growls from his stomach before Draco finally stumbled to his feet to scrounge up something for breakfast. Finding bread and cheese, he made a makeshift sandwich, then tried to clean himself up the best he could before he went to his former suitor’s palace. He was in no way presentable. He hadn’t washed properly since they’d left Slytherin, his hands and nails were in abominable shape, and his clothing was smudged and beginning to be tattered. He considered pulling out a new outfit from his bag, but he was scared of the same happening to it. Enough not to want to waste it on a man he hadn’t wanted in the first place, even if it did make him look bad. Let the man think he preferred this to marrying him.

Unfortunately, Draco had no such illusion for himself. Just the thought that he might run into the other man made his heart sink in his chest. How could he face someone who was his true equal when he’d been turned into—well, there was no other word for it, really—a drudge? Especially when he’d insulted the man so badly.

Still, he made his way to the palace, skirting the courtyard to avoid notice of anyone until he found the servants’ entrance, and asked for the tablecloths and napkins he was supposed to be washing for the King’s forthcoming wedding. The linen cloth was edged in gorgeous lace that made Draco’s heart clench. He was sure to ruin it if he treated it the way he had their clothes the day before. But he had to do what he was told, didn’t he? After all, if he did not… He shivered at what might happen then. Would his father even accept him back?

He towed the load home on his back, moaning with new pain in his back by the time he got to the cottage, and realized it was already noon. How on earth would he get it all done in time? Perhaps there were spells that he could use to help him? He’d not used his wand while on the road because Potter had forbidden it, but surely now… All he could do was try.

Ignoring his growling stomach, he used magic on each long strip of cloth, then folded them and returned them to the baskets, more pleased than he had been with the work than that he’d done the day before. Then he started on the napkins, finishing the last just in time to pack it away as Potter walked through the gate.

Potter looked from Draco to the laundry, a smile flickering on his face. “All done?”

Draco nodded slowly.

“And what have you made for supper?”

The slim hope Draco had had for praise for what he’d managed to accomplish faded in that moment. Not only had he not even considered supper, but he still had to get the basket back up to the palace before nightfall, which was in less than an hour. He’d never manage both.

“Nothing, hm?” Potter sighed, obviously disappointed. “Fine. I’ll take this back up to the palace, but if you don’t have anything waiting for me when I get back…” He let the warning trail off, and Draco shivered, knowing whatever he chose, it wouldn’t be good. He nodded to show Potter he understood.

Potter put the lot on his back, then started out the gate once more. Draco sighed, then turned into the house to see what he could find. 

He ended up throwing a bunch of things in the pot, then stirring it, but at the end, it looked rather grey and gross. He wouldn’t have wanted to eat it himself, and he highly doubted Potter would either. Chancing a bit more magic, he closed his eyes and pictured his own favorite meal—a stuffed pheasant with potatoes and greens. When he opened his eyes, the food in the pot was still stew, but it looked far more edible, at least…

He pulled out the bowls, then dished himself out a spoonful to taste it, smiling when the taste of the food he’d been imagining crossed his palate. 

He was dishing out a bowl for himself when Potter entered, taking the bowl from him and taking a careful bite, then smiling at the taste. “Now this is more like it!” he said with a grin. 

Draco watched him for a moment as he stuffed his mouth, then sighed when he realized no further praise was coming, and turned back to the pot to serve himself.

After he finished his bowl, Potter grunted, then stretched out on his bed. “A man could get used to that kind of service, Draco. You might make a good wife yet.”

Wife? Draco sputtered at the offending word, though he said nothing aloud, just glared at Potter. He also noticed that the man wasn’t about to make a move to clean anything. Apparently dishes were to be one of his regular tasks... He did little more than pick up everything and dump them in the water-bucket for now, then collapse on his own bed. The day hadn’t been as bad as the previous days had been, but even so…

“So…in the morning…the servants asked if we could deliver a few cords of wood to the palace. It seems they’ve been baking overtime for the wedding, and they’ve used up all the wood. So I told them you’d bring them more tomorrow.”

“Wood?” Draco looked at him. “But…I’d never be able to carry that much!”

“Of course not!” Draco relaxed infinitesimally. “Just bring the cart with you!” Potter said in a generous tone.

Draco sagged back onto the bed, defeated. That damned cart. His fingers had yet to really heal, and now the blisters that remained would probably break open. He rolled onto his side, away from Potter, and though he thought he’d be up all night, upset, somehow he managed to fall fast asleep almost immediately.

When he woke in the morning, Potter was nowhere to be seen. He dragged himself out of bed, not looking forward to another day filled with chores for the king whose hand he had refused. Still, if he was going to survive long enough to ask his father if he could come home, he’d have to try, at least, wouldn’t he?

He packed himself a light lunch, then went outside and got out the cart, which he’d been hoping to never see again. Sighing, he pulled it down the road leading from the palace and into the woods. He wasn’t sure how to get larger pieces, but the smaller sticks and branches seemed easy enough, and by the time his stomach had begun to growl, he had a good stack in his cart. All he could do was hope what he was finding was enough. 

He settled on the edge of the cart and began to eat his lunch, but was interrupted by a voice. “Oi!”

He shifted to see a young man with bright red hair riding a chestnut stallion, staring at him from the road.

“Hello?”

The man dismounted, then approached Draco, his blue eyes narrowing. “What are you doing in here? You know this is the king’s forest, right?”

Draco hadn’t, but he nodded. “I’m collecting wood for the palace. For the wedding feast,” he said.

The other man’s distrust didn’t seem to fade at Draco’s reassurance. “You’re bringing them twigs and branches? Where’s your axe?”

“Axe?” Draco asked. He’d never used that sort of implement before, and the idea made his hands twitch with pain. “I…don’t have one.”

The man snorted, his face settling into a sneer. “What kind of wood-cutter are you?”

“I’m not! I’m…” He stopped, realizing the other man would never believe it if he said he was a prince. “I’m just…doing what I’m told.”

“Right. Maybe I should drag you to the king? See what he has to say about it?”

The thought of being dragged before his one-time suitor was enough to have Draco shaking. “I…my…betrothed told me I was to…collect wood. Not the king.”

The other man frowned at the reaction. “And…who is your ‘betrothed?’”

“P-potter. He…lives in the cottage just outside the wall of the palace.”

The man looked at him as if he were mad. “Potter?” There was a long pause. “Wait…the little run-down hut? That’s barely standing? He’s making you live there?”

Draco wasn’t sure how to respond to that, or what exactly the other man meant by that, but finally, he nodded. “Yes.”

The man gave a soft laugh, then shook his head. “Why don’t I help you a bit with this little task of yours, hm?”

“You’d do that?” Draco asked, his heart leaping.

“Oh, yeah. I think ‘Potter’ and I need to have a bit of a talk, too.”

Draco’s heart sank at that. He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or scared of what might happen if the man were to say anything to Potter. Still, he doubted it would be good.

The two of them worked in silence for a few minutes, the red-head pulling out an axe from his belt to cut dead trunks into logs and even halving and quartering larger ones. Finally, they stopped for a break.

“May I ask…the name of my ‘protector?’” Draco asked as he passed him the water skin.

The man chuckled, then took a swallow from the skin before passing it back. “Well…I don’t know that you can quite consider me _that_ , but…” He held out his hand. “Sir Ronald Weasley. The head of the king’s personal guard.”

Draco’s eyes widened even as he took the man’s hand. No wonder he felt it necessary to protect the king’s interest, if he were so personally connected to the king. It must be why he was worried about the way Potter was treating him, as well.

“G-good to meet you,” he managed.

Weasley watched him for a moment, as though he wanted to ask him something, then seemed to change his mind. “Well, I do hope you’ll like our kingdom here…” he paused, looking at Draco expectantly.

“Draco,” Draco told him, realizing he hadn’t introduced himself.

Something seemed to light in Weasley’s eyes, and his lips twitched. “Draco. We should get back to work if we’re to get this all to the palace by nightfall, though.”

Draco nodded. “Right.” He turned and began gathering wood again, and soon the cart was as full as he could manage, and he took up the handles.

Weasley raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “Look, why don’t you let me take that, and you can go home. You look ready to topple.”

Even though he wanted to say yes, it was difficult. What if this was a trick to make him look bad. “What about your horse?”

“He’ll follow just fine, Draco. Really. And you can walk with us most of the way, so you could even lead him, if you liked.”

It was simply too much of a temptation for Draco to say no. “All right.” He smiled. “Thank you.” He moved to the road, where the horse was grazing, approaching it slowly, watching carefully until he was sure the horse would accept a touch. He couldn’t help but wish he had an apple to offer the beast. The horses at home had always been fond of apples. “You’re a good beast, aren’t you?” he murmured.

He heard the rumble of the cart-wheels rolling over the ground behind him, and turned to see Weasley approaching. He looked a bit surprised. “Wow. Pig doesn’t usually let others touch him. You must have the magic touch.”

Draco smiled. “I’ve always been good with horses.”

“Oh? I’ll have to tell the king about that.”

The horror must have shown on Draco’s face at that, for Weasley was quick to reassure him. “I promise he doesn’t bite. He’s actually quite soft-hearted…” He blinked for a moment, then frowned. “Well, most of the time…” He muttered something under his breath that Draco didn’t catch, then turned and pulled the cart onto the road. 

Draco took the stallion’s reins, then led it after the cart, not sure what to make of the man who had helped him more in one day than the man he was to marry had since the moment they’d met. What he was sure of was that he _never_ wanted to come across the king. Not if he could help it.

They made their way up the road, both lost in their own thoughts. At the turn-off for the hut, Draco paused, not sure if he should go with Weasley up to the palace, or go home and prepare supper. After all, it was almost dinner-time, too.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll bring the cart back as soon as I’ve got it emptied, okay?”

Draco nodded. “Thank you.” He dropped the horse’s reins, and watched as it obediently followed after its master as he continued to pull the cart up the road towards the castle.

Finally, he turned toward the cottage. He still couldn’t call it a home, but his bed was there. And Potter would probably look for him if he went missing. He hadn’t exactly seen the other man’s temper, but he wasn’t particularly sure he wanted to, either. 

Once inside, he repeated his spell from the day before, this time managing a quite passable beef stew, and cut up some bread and cheese to go with it, serving it up just as he heard the cart outside. He was about to go out and ask Weasley if he wanted some food, when he heard voices.

“Ron…what are you…”

Draco missed whatever Weasley’s response was, but he recognized the first voice as Potter’s. He ducked out of the view of the single window, but pressed close, hoping to hear what they said to one another.

“He did? And you…why? You know…” Potter’s voice dropped, and Draco shifted closer, trying to stay hidden but get close enough to catch their words.

“…Can’t do this much longer, you know. The king is coming, and he’ll be furious when he finds out…”

“I know what I’m doing, Ron. Just…trust me? I think he’ll agree, it was a good lesson learned.”

“If he doesn’t take him back home…”

Draco pulled away at that. The king hadn’t even arrived yet? He was still out of the country? He must be retrieving his consort, Draco thought to himself. And now he felt a fool, being worried his former suitor would see him. Weasley was right. If the king knew what a peasant was doing to the man he might have married, he’d never have allowed it. Even if he _had_ insulted him.

He moved back to the centre of the room, his thoughts whirling now. Potter had tricked him. Made a fool of him! He’d been keeping him prisoner here, knowing the king would never allow it. Well, then. Draco would just have to find a way to tell the king as soon as he arrived. And then they’d see what would happen, wouldn’t they?

Ron didn’t come in with Potter, nor did Potter ask how Draco’s day had gone. Draco might have found that suspicious before, but now he was certain he knew what it meant. Potter was nervous. Or didn’t want him to know the truth. It really was a dead giveaway.

They ate their supper in silence, and then both went to their separate mattresses. Draco pretended to fall asleep, but listened for Potter’s snores to begin, then sat up to watch him. What did Potter think to prove, doing this to him? And why did he think he could get away with it?

Then the man began to mumble in his sleep, and Draco listened with rapt attention.

“…Didn’t mean…Please…Draco, I…wish you could understand.”

Sounded like excuses to Draco. Whatever reason Potter had for doing this, it would be over as soon as the King returned. And really, aside from what little he had to do for his own survival? He refused to do any more of Potter’s ridiculous chores. Especially the ones for the king and his betrothed.

Feeling much more certain of himself, Draco nodded, then curled up under his comforter and fell into the most restful sleep he’d had since the day he’d first set eyes on Potter.

In the morning, when he woke, Potter was sitting at the table, watching him. “New chore today, Draco. I told them you’d help up at the palace, preparing the feast. The king will be married tonight, and so they’ll need all the hands they can get.”

“Cook?” Draco twitched, his first reaction horror at the idea, his second, the memory that Potter was hiding all this from his king. “In the palace, you say?”

Potter obviously sensed the change in him, as his eyes narrowed. “Yes. You’ll need to get up there soon. They’re expecting you.”

“And what will you be doing, hm?”

Potter blinked at him, and Draco grinned. Oh, he was definitely hiding _something_ … 

“All right. I suppose I’ll see you tonight? Or will I be serving as well?” he asked, shocked at how calm he managed to keep the words.

It was worth it. Potter looked rather worried, now. Draco wished he could gloat, but that would come later. After he’d talked to the king. And preferably in private.

Draco stood and dressed in one of his clean outfits, untouched from the horror that had started the moment he’d left Slytherin. He didn’t use his best—he’d save that for the rescue he’d hoped would come, even in his darkest moments. Now it had, but he found he simply needed to keep going as he had, and everything would be perfect.

Without another word to Potter, he made his way up to the palace, then knocked on the kitchen door. The woman who let him in was too busy to answer any questions, so he soon found himself at a table peeling vegetables. It was a dirty job, but simple, and when he was allowed to take a break for lunch, he set out into the courtyard to look around. Perhaps he would find that Weasley again, and he could point out the king when he arrived.

It happened in a flash. He was so busy looking for that shock of red hair that he wasn’t watching where he was going, and crashed headlong into someone, then toppled backwards into a mud puddle. Horrified, he jumped up, trying desperately to clean his clothes, despite the fact that they were beyond repair, then looked up to growl at the man who’d bumped into him—only to find Potter staring at him, horror-struck.

Draco scowled at him, ready to lambaste him for the gaffe, when he noticed the clothes Potter was wearing. Thick black velvet embroidered with gold, and glittering with gemstones along the front. A far cry from the clothes of a peasant. What was going on?

“Potter? What are you…” Even as he began to ask, a thought came to him, but it couldn’t be true, could it? “Weasley said the king would be showing soon… You can’t…no…”

Potter flushed. Draco’d never seen that before. “You never did take a good look at me that day, you know. Surface only?”

Horrified, Draco nearly found himself sitting down in the puddle once more, his legs went so weak with shock. “So this was all just…what? Your way of getting back at me?” Even as he spoke, anger began to take hold. Draco was trembling slightly, thinking of all the things Potter had forced him to do. “You…bastard!” He shoved at the man, but Potter stepped back, not wanting to muss his own clothes, obviously, and Draco growled. “As soon as my father appears, I’m leaving. I don’t care what he says!”

“Look…it wasn’t…it didn’t start that way. But then you kept whining…I couldn’t resist. I always intended to marry you properly, Draco.”

“Yes, well…I _don’t_ want to marry _you_!” And with that, Draco spun to storm off back to Potter’s shack, then realized he’d never have to sleep in that horrible place again. And that was when something else occurred to him. Potter hadn’t had to sleep there with him. But he had. Why? Draco turned back to look at him. “And what is it that makes me so special that you’d go out of your way to travel back to your kingdom without your guard, on foot? Or sleep in a shack that will likely fall over at the first wind?”

Potter blinked at him. “Honestly? I’d hoped…you’d ask me to stop. Or to help.”

“And when I did ask, you laughed!”

“You _never_ asked, Draco! You demanded. You whined! But…you never asked.” Potter looked sad.

Draco thought about this. It might be true. But then he remembered he was the wronged party here. He huffed. “So…do I have a room here? Or should I go back to the shack?”

Potter flushed again. “I’ll have Ron show you up to your room. And send someone to draw you up a bath. And retrieve your mattress.”

“Burn it,” Draco said with a sniff, sitting down on a nearby bench to wait for Potter to right his world once more.

* * *

Though it felt wonderful to be clean and pampered once more, and to have servants bowing and scraping to him, Draco was surprised to find that it really didn’t make him feel better. But when he tried to figure out why, nothing could come to him except a flash of Potter’s face, and that he shook off as fast as he could. He didn’t want to think of that man. Not if he could help it.

The wedding plans still seemed to be proceeding, which also didn’t seem to improve Draco’s mood. After all, he’d told Potter he wouldn’t be staying. What did Potter know that he did not? The very thought that Potter knew something that he didn’t made him nervous, and Draco _hated_ being nervous.

He made his way down to the courtyard to see if he could find Weasley, and was astonished when he saw his father’s guards ride into the yard. He knew that his father couldn’t be too far behind, and the thought lightened his heart. He smiled and greeted the guards by name, not even noticing the shocked looks the men were giving him in his delight that he would soon be able to return home.

When Potter appeared to greet them as well, Draco sneered, then moved to the gate, hoping to see his father’s carriage arriving, but it was nowhere in sight, so all he could do was wait.

The full party did not arrive for almost another hour, and by that time, one of his father’s guards had joined him, as had Weasley. Draco’d tried to engage his father’s guard in talk, but the man seemed so bewildered to be talking to his prince that Draco finally gave up. Instead, he talked with Weasley, who seemed bemused at Draco’s interaction with the guard, but asked no questions.

When King Lucius arrived, Draco was the first to the door of his father’s carriage, opening it himself with a grin. “Father.”

Lucius blinked at his son’s cheerful demeanor. “Draco?”

“Of course, father. Who else would it be?” Draco asked with a laugh.

Raising an eyebrow, Lucius stepped out of the carriage. “You seem in excellent spirits. I expected…well…different than this.”

“Mmm…” Draco nodded. “I was a bit…obnoxious when I left, but I’m better now. So…may I come home?” he asked.

If Lucius’s eyebrow could have climbed any higher, it would have. “And why would I let that happen, Draco? You are betrothed, are you not? I was under the impression I was here for a wedding?”

Draco’s heart sank for a moment. It was as though his father had slapped him in the face. But then he remembered that his father didn’t know the full truth. “Come inside. Let me explain, at least?”

Lucius seemed to be considering this when Potter appeared. “Ah, King Lucius. It is good to see you again.”

Lucius smiled at him. “And has my son been behaving for you?” he asked.

Draco looked between them, his throat closing. His father had _known_? His father had _allowed_ this? “Father?” 

Both men turned to Draco, and at the curious expression on his father’s face, he felt the bottom drop out of his world once more. “I see.” His father had known. And expected Draco to stay. Regardless.

With that, he turned and stormed back to his room, locking the door behind him. He would never be free again. Not unless he took freedom for himself. Let Potter have his kingdom. If there was one thing he’d learned in the past few weeks, it was that he could do anything if he was desperate enough. He’d learned enough to take care of himself now. He didn’t need anyone. 

He hurried to pack a bag, then rang for a servant. There were things he would need that he didn’t know how to access here. But a servant would know.

Unfortunately, the person who answered the bell wasn’t a servant. “Potter. Get out,” he growled.

“No. Not until we talk, Draco.”

“No. Never. You don’t…I refuse to stay!”

“You can’t go home, Draco. You saw that, right?”

“I did. I don’t know what you said to convince him, but…”

“It wasn’t _me_ , Draco. It was _you_!”

“ _Me_? That’s ridiculous. I want to go _home_!”

“You are home, Draco,” came Lucius’s drawl from the door. “When I arrived, you looked happier than I have seen you since you were a boy.”

“Yes! Because I thought I was going home!”

“It wasn’t just that. I see you are angry, but…can you honestly say you aren’t happier now than you were before all this?” his father asked.

Draco shot a look at Potter, then turned to his father fully. “Yes. I’m…miserable. Do you _know_ what sorts of things he’s forced me to do? Washing dishes! Cooking for him!”

“Undignified, perhaps, but hardly skills that will kill you, Draco.”

“I hate him! If I have to stay here with him, I will kill him!”

This pronouncement met with dead silence from the other two men, who seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation between them. Finally, Potter’s hand fell on Draco’s shoulder. “I meant to teach you a lesson in humility, Draco. But I obviously forgot one thing. This wasn’t just about humiliating you.”

Draco turned to glare at him, shrugging off his hand. “Obviously something you enjoyed too much to bother with anything else, which tells me everything I need to know about _you_!”

“I admit, I…failed to explain myself, but would you have listened?”

“You never tried! Why should I have bothered?”

Potter looked sad. “Because…maybe the fact that I was trying so hard to get through to you meant that I wanted more?”

“What could you possibly want from me?” Draco sneered. 

For a moment, Potter was quiet. Then he tugged took Draco’s wrist and pulled him closer. “I should have tried this before,” he said softly. His hand moved up to tangle in Draco’s hair before he could pull away, then pulled him into a kiss.

Draco had kissed before. Had done a good deal more, in fact. But this was like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and without his own urgings, he found his own hands going up to thread in Potter’s hair, pressing against him as they kissed.

When Potter pulled away, he looked cautiously hopeful. “So…will you stay?”

Draco glanced between Potter and his father, then moved closer to Potter again. “Will there be more lessons?” he asked, and suddenly he wasn’t sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Potter smiled. “As many as it takes until you learn your lessons.”

“That might be a good many, Potter,” Draco said, unable to keep a smirk from his face.

“Harry,” Potter said, before pulling Draco into another kiss.

Potter—Harry—was a very good kisser. Draco was beginning to think being married to him might not be so bad after all.

_finis_


	7. Draco's Dreams Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gives Draco a new way of seeing their past, and then Draco begins a new story.

When Draco finished, Potter was staring at him as though he had a horn growing from his head. "So…wait…your father trusted _me_ to teach you a lesson?"

Draco glowered at him for a moment, then looked away. "My father loves me very much. But that doesn’t mean he’ll put up with anything I want, Potter."

"I…no, that’s not what I meant. I mean, he _hates_ me!"

Draco turned to glower at him once more. "He didn’t know you in the dream, Potter."

"Oh…right. Well…that one wasn’t so bad. Even with the kiss."

It was hard to keep his face from going red, Draco looked away again. "Yeah, well…you didn’t dream it. And you weren’t the one so badly used, either."

"I was insulted and ignored…" Potter said indignantly.

"And I got splinters and bruises and blisters!"

Potter pulled back, blinking. "Woah. Sorry, Draco. I just meant…" He sighed and shook his head at Draco's glare. "So…what was the next about?"

But Draco wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. "No. You just meant what, Potter?"

"That sometimes you don’t realize how cutting your words or actions are, Draco," he said firmly.

Draco tried to fight another flush, raising his chin, but refusing to look away this time. "So? It’s not like you were ever going to like me, so why shouldn’t I treat you that way?"

"Did you ever think that maybe that’s _why_ I was never going to like you?"

Blinking at that, Draco looked into his lap. He truly hadn’t ever thought of it that way, but it was hardly going to be something he’d admit to Potter, whether or not they were getting on. "It…doesn’t matter," he finally said softly.

"Right. So…what was the next dream about?"

It took Draco a few minutes to remember, his flustered state bringing very different memories to mind. "I…think it was the one where we…no, wait, that was later…Oh…I remember. I was living in this tower…"


	8. The Witch's Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of Towers and Witches and finding your way.

On a far hill, in the tallest, most crooked tower in the land, there lived a very lonely young man named Draco. He knew he must be a prince, though he could not remember his parents. He had to be. Why else would the witch have captured him and taken him from them? All he knew was this tower and the witch who visited him here, and the "pet" that she often brought with her. 

He really wasn’t a pet. He was a man. A very creepy man. She called him "Fenny." They both seemed to find that funny. Draco wasn’t sure what the joke was. To be honest, the man scared him. All the more because when Draco didn’t do as the witch asked, she threatened to let Fenny play with him. Whatever else, Draco knew he didn’t want that to happen. 

At one point, when he had been younger, he had asked her who she was, and she said she was his auntie, and that she had taken him to raise as a favor to her sister. Draco personally refused to believe this, but he kept any guesses as to the truth to himself. He didn’t want her to let Fenny play with him. Ever.

But Draco knew that it was only a matter of time before Fenny did anyway. He was growing up, and for some reason, this upset his "aunt." She told him that soon he would have to prove his worth, and that he would do so far better if he were like Fenny than as he was, which even Draco had to admit to himself some days was just a plain and rather ordinary boy.

He simply had no clue what he could do to prevent his fate. He’d never been anywhere but this tower. He didn’t even know how to escape it. There were no doors, just windows. The witch and her pet just appeared and disappeared at will. Literally. If only he knew how to master that trick… But he did not. 

So instead, he worried. Soon it would happen. Soon he would be just like Fenrir. Would he laugh at their jokes then, too? Just the thought made him shiver. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to be like that.

One day, he was sitting at the window of his tower, which looked out over the surrounding woods, when he saw a stranger pass by. He’d never seen anyone in his life but the witch and Fenrir, as the tower was in such an out-of-the-way location. Without thinking, he called out to the stranger. "Hello!"

The dark head of the young man whipped up to see who had called to him, and his eyes widened when he saw Draco in the window of the tower. After a moment of staring he shook himself, then turned and approached the tower. "Hello! I didn’t realize that place was occupied."

"Just me. Except when my aunt comes to visit." Draco wanted to ask for his help, but at the same time, he didn’t know this young man. He might be worse than the witch or Fenrir. "Do you live nearby?"

"The kingdom just over the border from here, actually. I was just visiting your kingdom here. They told me not to use this path, but it’s the quickest route home, and I’m very resourceful, so I wasn’t too worried. May I come up?"

"Um… I wouldn’t mind, but…There’s no door. So unless you can fly…"

The other man smiled, then pulled a small stick from his back that he enlarged into a broom. "I’ll be right up!" 

Draco watched him, amazed, as he swooped in a circle, then alit on the windowsill. "Wow…I’ve only ever seen her do magic before. Can you do other things?"

The man nodded. "A few tricks. Are you not magical then?"

Draco blinked. He’d never really thought about it. "I…don’t know. I don’t know any magic, but…she says I’m her nephew, so I must be, right?"

"Wait…‘she says?’ You don’t know?"

"No. I’ve never known anything but this tower and her and…Fenny." For some reason, saying the man’s true name scared Draco, so all he could manage was the nickname the witch had given him.

"Fenny? Who is that?"

"Her…um…pet," Draco mumbled.

"A pet? What is he?"

Draco’s throat closed, and he turned away, unable to speak again.

The other young man moved closer. "I’m sorry…Are you all right?" he asked.

Draco nodded, though he didn’t speak further.

"Well…my name’s Harry. It’s good to meet you."

Draco looked up at him and smiled. "It’s good to meet you, Harry. I’m Draco."

Harry seemed surprised at the name, then looked thoughtful. "You’ve…been here your whole life?" he asked slowly.

"Well, I assume so. I don’t recall anything else. Why?"

Harry shook his head. "Well, it might not be anything. Let me check. May I…come back and visit?"

"Of course! Though…you must never come at night. When she comes, it’s always night. And…I don’t know if she would be pleased to find out I've had visitors."

"Probably not," Harry agreed. He smiled at Draco, squeezing his shoulder, and seeming to sense his distress. "I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

Draco nodded. Part of him was glad that Harry would promise to visit again, but another part of him wanted Harry to not leave at all. Still, better that than have the witch catch him here. "Soon," he said to hide his turmoil. "I look forward to it."

Still, it was difficult to watch Harry mount his broom and fly back through the trees. It felt like he’d never see him again. 

Draco’s aunt appeared that night, and Draco was even more glad he’d told Harry not to return in the darkness. Unfortunately for Draco, Fenrir was with her.

"Someone’s been here, Bella," he growled even before she spoke. He was sniffing the air around the window.

Draco tried not to respond to that, but it was a difficult thing. He hadn’t realized the man’s senses were so strong. All he could do was try to bluff it out. "You mean the bird that came to see me?" He asked.

"Like no bird I ever smelled," Fenrir growled.

"Well, it was a very unusual bird…"

"Bird or not…" Bella said, cutting across their argument, "I will simply have to ensure that he doesn’t fly off with you, dear nephew. I wouldn’t want you being abducted," she added with an evil smirk that made it difficult for Draco not to shudder.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about," she said, continuing with the same evil grin.

Draco’s throat closed as the two went to the window and looked out, Fenrir sniffing all the while, his eyes narrowed. He whispered something to Bella, who nodded, then waved her wand over the sill, and across the opening of the window.

She turned to Draco, a calculating look on her face. "You’ve been a bad boy, Draco. Perhaps your auntie should punish you?"

Draco shook his head, backing up until his legs hit the bed, and he tumbled down onto it. "No! I haven't! Really!"

Before he could say more, Fenrir was over him, his grin echoing the one Bella had used. "Let me do it, Bella. He’ll never think of leaving you then…"

"Not yet, Fenny. I want him to prove himself."

Fenrir pulled back, a sour look on his face.

"You like the protection I offer you, don’t you, dear nephew? The food I bring? I take good care of you. You wouldn’t leave auntie, would you?"

"Never," he said, nearly believing the word as he said it.

"Good. Then, when that…‘bird’ appears, you’re to call me. Immediately. Clear?"

"Yes, aunt Bella." 

"Good." She turned back to the basket that usually held the food she brought him and handed it to Fenrir. "And just to make sure, we’ll let you go without, just so you can know what it means to defy your auntie, shall we?"

Draco’s stomach gave a grumble at that, and Fenrir laughed. "I think he has a clue already, Bella."

"True. But there’s knowing, and there’s feeling, Fenny. And I want Draco to really understand. To feel."

"No, aunt, please…"

"Tomorrow, Draco." 

Draco sighed, then nodded. Hopefully by tomorrow, Harry would have rescued him. He had to hope for that now. "I will see you then?"

"No. Just Fenny, here," she responded with a grin.

Draco knew what that meant. It meant if Fenrir arrived and the smell was at least as strong, if not stronger, that worse than what Bella could do herself would likely happen. He swallowed. "Yes, aunt Bella," he said softly. The two vanished once more, and Draco curled into a ball on his bed. Could things get any worse?

Despite his fear and his hunger, Draco did manage to fall asleep. When he woke in the morning, it was to the sight of a new and yet familiar face.

"Hey," Harry said, smiling at him.

Sleep-fogged, Draco couldn’t help but smile back, until the memory of the night before came to him, and he sat up abruptly. "No! You shouldn’t be here. Fenny smelled you! Auntie will know you’ve been here."

"It’s okay, Draco. This time, when I leave, you’re coming with me."

That brought Draco up short. "I am?"

Harry smiled wider. "Yes. I brought a broom that should hold us both. All you have to do is hold on to my waist. Can you do that?"

If it meant he could get away from Bella and Fenrir, Draco was sure he could have done anything Harry asked. "Yes," he said, grinning back. "When?"

"Now, if you’d like."

Draco jumped up from the bed, fear and joy equal parts in his heart. "Yes! Please!"

"All right," Harry said, still grinning. He pulled his broom from the wall where he’d braced it, then straddled it. "Just straddle the handle, and hold on tight. It’ll probably be a bit scary at first, since you won’t be able to steer, but you’ll be fine, okay?"

Nodding, Draco moved to straddle the handle, then put his arms tight around Harry’s waist. "Like this?" he asked.

"Perfect," Harry replied. "Now…" He lifted the broom so that their feet no longer touched the floor, then moved gently forward towards the window. Draco’s arms tightened around Harry, and a good thing, too, for when Harry tried to fly out the window, he could feel himself sliding back.

"Harry?" he asked, his voice trembling, his arms aching as he felt the window somehow pushing him back into the room. Bella’s spell. It had to be!

Obviously, Harry could feel the spell as well. He pulled back on the handle, then turned and shifted sideways back into the room so that Draco wouldn’t fall off the broom, and landed once more. "Damn. I’d hoped…" He sighed. "I’ll need to go get something. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?"

"What? No! Please don’t leave me here!"

Harry looked at him sadly. "I can’t take you with me. She’s obviously enchanted the room to keep you here. Which means we’ll need to make our own door. And for that, I’ll need something else. I promise to be back before nightfall, okay?"

Draco looked out the window. It looked to be sometime around mid-morning. "How far do you have to go?" he asked.

"A little ways. But I’ll be back as fast as I can. I promise." 

Draco didn’t want him to go. Or rather, he didn’t want to be left behind. But since he had no choice… "All right. I’ll see you soon?"

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yes. Very soon." Then he mounted his broom, and flew away, Draco watching him once more.

Despite the fact that Draco was used to being alone, and, in fact, had _never_ looked forward to a single one of his aunt’s "visits," for once, he was highly impatient. Time seemed to drag. And yet, at the same time, it was slipping by far too fast. He just wanted Harry to appear once more. Before Fenrir arrived. Because if he showed before Harry… Draco shuddered. It couldn’t happen. It wouldn’t. Harry wouldn’t let it. Still, it didn’t stop Draco from worrying.

By the time the sun had sunk halfway towards evening once more, Draco was finding it hard to breathe. If Harry didn’t come soon… He began to pace in front of the window, glancing out at the woods every so often, hoping for a glimpse of his new friend flying back toward him to help free him.

When the sun reached the top of the trees, Draco began to shake. He knew what would happen if Fenrir arrived and smelled Harry here once more. And if Harry were _here_? He couldn’t even contemplate what would happen then.

He was beginning to fall into a truly panicked state when Harry alit on the windowsill once more, the late afternoon light lighting him from behind and making him glow, and for a moment, Draco just stared at him, wondering if he were simply a hallucination. Then he spoke. "Sorry it took so long, Draco. He had to make a potion. But it should work…and he gave me a few others…"

Draco didn’t care who "he" was, or what he’d done. He just jumped to his feet from the bed he’d sunk to in his despair. He hurried to the window. "I don’t care! We have to get out! Now! He’ll be here any moment! If he sees you…"

"It’s okay, Draco. All you have to do is drink this." Harry handed him the potion, and Draco tossed it down, shuddering at the taste.

"Eegh… That was horrible. We…can leave now?" 

Harry nodded. "Here. Take these. He says they might be able to track us, and we’ll need things to throw them off our trail. But you’ll need to throw them so I can maneuver around them if needed, okay?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. Just…let’s go. Now!"

"All right." Harry waved for him to mount the broom, and Draco did, clinging to him, four vials of…something in his hands. He only hoped whoever was helping Harry knew what he was doing…

Draco didn’t relax until they’d managed to fly out the window, and he could look back and see the tower fading away behind them. But even as he looked back, he heard the crack of someone appearing in the tower. He didn’t have to see the figure inside to know who had appeared. Instead, he tightened his arms and urged Harry to fly faster.

Though he had never flown before, and had been expecting to be a bit scared of being so far above the ground, he found that now he was free of that place, the wind in his hair, and his arms tight around Harry, he couldn’t imagine ever feeling better. This must be freedom. He even managed to relax, the further they got from the tower with no sign of his aunt or Fenrir.

Harry didn’t seem to want to slow, though. And really, Draco wasn’t about to stop him. "How far do we have to go?" he asked.

"The palace is a few hours ride. We should be there in just about time for supper. If we don’t have to take any detours, anyway…"

"Palace?" Draco asked, alarmed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to meet royalty. "Why are we going to the palace?"

Before Harry could explain, Fenrir jumped out at them from one side of the path Harry’d been following. He reached for Draco’s leg, making him scream as talons dug into his trousers.

"The potions, Draco! Hurry!"

Draco grabbed one of the potions, and threw it at Fenrir, which made the man howl and fall back. Draco tucked his knees up around Harry, shuddering, even as Harry pulled the broom up higher into the trees. "God…"

"It’s alright, Draco. He can’t reach us unless he’s got a broom. But we’ll keep higher, just to be sure, okay?"

Draco nodded. "And faster?"

"As fast as I can with both of us on this thing. It’ll be okay. I promise." But his voice sounded kind of grim, despite his words. They both knew that it wasn’t over by a long shot. The witch and her pet wouldn’t give him up so easily.

After that, both seemed to tacitly agree that silence would be better. After all, if they were overheard… 

They flew on that way for another stretch of time, and finally Draco relaxed enough to look around. While in the tower, he’d had little to do but read, but he had read as much as his aunt would allow. And there had been times when she’d been indulgent enough to bring him anything he’d asked for, so he’d had plenty of stories to choose from. So he knew about trees and woods and animals and streams… Still, reading about the world was very different from seeing it first-hand. It was all rather beautiful, he thought.

He was distracted from his reverent examination of the world around him at a crack to one side. This time, it was Bella who had appeared. She was flying. Without a broom. Draco’s arms tightened around Harry in horror once more.

"I think you have something of mine, _boy_. I’d advise you to give it back before I hex you from that silly twig."

For some reason, Harry seemed to go almost calm. "I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am. Need to get him to his family."

" _I’m_ his family, you fool!"

"Ah, but you’re not his true family, are you? And they want him back." Harry swerved the broom toward her, then shouted, "Now, Draco!"

It took a moment for the shock of what Harry was doing to wear off, and another for Draco to realize what he meant. He fumbled with the potions, then threw one at his aunt, and she was engulfed in a bubble, and no longer able to move forward in the air. Draco watched as the bubble slowly sank towards the ground, Bella struggling inside to break free, and then Harry zoomed away and she was out of sight.

The next attack came when they landed to get their bearings because Harry’d gotten turned around. Fenrir attacked, and they’d jumped back onto the broom, but not before both of them had gotten scored by the talons he had for finger-nails. 

Draco’d thrown the third potion, and Fenrir had again backed off, wailing. This time Draco caught a glimpse of Fenrir, and noticed that the area where the potion had hit was bubbling. Obviously, it was toxic stuff. Except that couldn't be true, could it? Around Bella, it had just made a bubble. Maybe each potion was different?

It was full dark, now, and Draco pressed his face into Harry’s back, trying to relax, waiting for another attack. But even if one never came, what awaited him at the end of this journey? He’d never known anything but Bella and Fenrir. And while Harry was sweet and kind, or at least seemed so, Draco couldn’t be sure that others would be. That was one thing, at least, he had learned from his aunt.

This family that Harry had told her about…were they waiting at the palace? Draco desperately wanted to tell Harry to turn around. Yet…where would he go, if not to his true family? It stumped him. Now that he was free, who was he? Where was he to go?

"We’re nearly there, Draco," Harry said quietly, interrupting his thoughts. "She wouldn’t dare attack us there, so you’re almost free."

Of course, that was when Bella chose to appear once more, directly in front of him. "He will never be free, and he knows it. What is he fit for, anyway? King?" She laughed. "He knows he’s fit for nothing more than to become my pet as I planned all along. After all, Fenny can only last so much longer. He needs someone to train…"

Bella’s words buzzing in his ears, Draco squeezed his eyes closed, throwing the last potion. He heard her scream and drop away, and felt Harry swoop around her, then zoom away. But he found he could no longer open his eyes. He just clung to Harry, waiting for the end to come. Either they would land in the Palace, and his life would change forever, or Bella and Fenrir would take him, and he would become like Fenrir—until Bella became bored with him and replaced him, apparently.

He didn’t notice the lights of the town as they approached, his eyes screwed shut as they were. He barely even noticed as they alit in the courtyard of the palace. 

It was only when Harry urged him to climb off the broom that he opened his eyes. They were standing in the courtyard of the kind of palace Draco had only ever dreamed of. There were tall towers and short, and high walls with beautiful stonework that surrounded the entirety of the castle grounds and lush gardens. And in front of the doors, at the top of the main staircase, stood a man and a woman who were looking at him as though he were a ghost.

The woman took a step forward, but the man—Draco knew he must be her husband—held her arm. "Draco?" she asked. Her voice was wavering, and he could hear the tears in her voice. He knew they had to be his parents, but he was scared to step away from Harry, so he nodded instead. 

"Y-yes."

Her eyes closed, but the man’s eyes softened. "We had hoped," he said, and though his voice sounded calm, Draco could hear the steel control underlying the words. "But it had been so long…"

Harry pushed him forward. "Go on," he whispered, smiling softly.

Draco glanced at him, then back to the two he knew were his parents. Their robes were quite luxurious from what he could see, and now he knew why Harry had brought him to the palace. He was the son of the king and queen.

It took a good deal to convince his feet to move, but finally, he stepped forward and made his way up the stairs. As soon as he was close enough, the woman threw her arms around him and sobbed. Draco met his father’s eyes, not sure what to say.

So he was quite surprised when he found himself asking, "You thought I was dead?" 

The king nodded. "Narcissa’s sister was never a kind woman, and we feared she had hurt you, or worse. But you seem…quite whole," he said, a near-smile tickling his lips.

Draco assumed the woman still hugging him and sniffling was Narcissa. That meant that Bella truly had been his aunt. At least that explained how she had managed to abduct him… "So…you…want me back?"

"Of course we do," the woman said angrily, looking up at him, her porcelain-pale face streaked with tears. "You are our first-born. We love you."

First-born? Meaning that he had siblings? "I…have brothers and sisters?" he asked, shocked at the idea that he had even more family.

The king nodded. "Two brothers and a sister. I could have someone collect them, if you would like?"

Draco shook his head quickly. "No. It’s late. I wouldn’t want to wake them. I can meet them soon enough…"

"I assure you," the woman said, "they would love to finally meet you."

All Draco could hear in his head was Bella’s mocking voice, saying how he was fit for nothing but being her pet. And whatever else, he had to agree—he was in no way fit to be anyone’s king.

"Tomorrow," he assured her. "Harry and I traveled quite some way, and…"

"Harry?" the king asked. "What about him?"

Draco blinked. "Well…I just…assumed we would offer him a place to sleep for the night?"

"Draco…" The woman was speaking now. "He’s already left. I think he wanted you to have time alone with your family."

Draco’s head turned quickly to where Harry had been standing. But he was gone. "No…" He hurried down the steps after him.

"Draco!" his father called after him.

Draco turned, and saw that the woman was clinging to her husband again. "I’m sorry. I can’t be…this. What you need. You have two sons to take over. I’ll be back. When I’m ready." Then he turned and ran down the stairs. "Harry! Wait for me!"

Harry hadn’t even mounted his broom. He was just walking down the path to the village, and turned back when he heard Draco’s voice. "Draco? What…" Draco caught up to him, flinging his arms around Harry. 

"Please don’t leave me behind?"

Harry’s arms went around him. "But… This is where you belong, Draco."

Meeting his new friend’s eyes, he shook his head. "I don’t. Maybe once I did, but…not now. Take me with you?"

"Why me?"

Draco couldn’t honestly answer the question. He wasn’t really sure why. Just that right now, he wasn’t ready to meet the world without Harry. Maybe someday, but not yet. Not now. "Because you saved me. Because I want to. Please?"

Harry thought about that, then smiled and nodded. "All right. Come on. Let’s go find a room for the night. We’ve got a long way to go." He put his arm around Draco’s shoulders, and together, the two of them walked down to the village, where Draco’s life would finally begin.

_fin_


	9. Draco's Dreams Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's discomfort at telling Harry his dreams grows.

When Draco had finished, Harry looked at him for a long moment before he spoke. “You know…that kind of reminds me of a fairy-story they read us in nursery school. Rapunzel. Ever heard of it?”

Draco shook his head. “What’s that about?”

“Well…this girl. Her parents steal something from a witch, so the witch takes their baby in return, and lock her in a tower, and leaves her there. Makes her grow out her hair so that she can climb up and spend time with her.”

“Ow…” Draco wrinkled his nose, hand going to his hair before he could stop the gesture, rubbing at his scalp in empathy. “That must have hurt.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I thought so, too at the time. You know…now that I think of it…quite a few of these remind me of those tales.”

“Really? Maybe…I heard them once, and that’s why I’m having these dreams?”

“Maybe…” Harry mused. “But then why me?”

Draco flushed. “I don’t know.”

“I suppose…you never really stopped hoping I’d change my mind. But then…why the kissing?”

As Draco felt his cheeks heat even more, he stood and moved to the window again. He was hardly going to discuss his sexual preferences with Potter, after all. “Does it matter?”

“Obviously, it does to you, Draco,” Harry said softly. Draco looked up to see Harry standing at his shoulder.

“No. Just…” He swallowed. “Obviously, this was a mistake. It’s not helping.” In fact, it was making Draco rather distinctly uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to tell Harry—Potter! When had he started thinking of him as Harry? He shook his head to clear it. “My parents are probably expecting me…”

“Please, Draco. You need to talk with someone about this. Why not me?”

Because there was obviously more to it than even Draco had realized, and with the retellings, the feeling of that last dream was growing inside him. As was the urge to lean over and kiss Harry to find out if it really felt as good as it had in his dreams. “I don’t know…”

“Just one more? If you’re still feeling uncomfortable, then…you can go. Okay?”

Draco knew he would, but what if he made a bigger fool of himself in the meantime? Still, he nodded. “Okay.” He let Harry lead him back to the couch, closing his eyes when Harry settled beside him rather than across from him. Bad sign, that, but he couldn’t manage to get his tongue working right to tell him so, or to ask him to move away.

“So…what was the next, Draco? Were you a prince again?” he asked with a smile.

Draco nodded. “A very wanted prince. The only son. And long awaited…”


	10. The Treasured Prince Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once there were a King and Queen who wanted nothing so much as a son.

There was once a King and Queen who wanted nothing more than a child. They tried so many things, but finally, just as they were about to give up, an old and very powerful wizard offered them help in conceiving their child. The couple gratefully accepted, and soon the Queen became pregnant, and they and their people celebrated.

Finally, at long last, their son was born. Prince Draco was everything the King and Queen had wanted in a child, and they wanted him to have the best of everything, so they sent for the most powerful witches and wizards in their land as well as the neighboring kingdoms, inviting them to a feast in their son’s honor, knowing that each witch and wizard would give the boy gifts that would make him even greater than he was.

Twelve invitations were sent out to all corners of the land, inviting the great witches and wizards, but in all their plans, there was one they neglected. The same wizard who had helped them conceive a child. He was a wizard most did their best to avoid, for he was bitter and dark, and usually more inclined to cause misery and sorrow than joy. So despite his help, the King felt it best not to invite him with the rest. When the wizard heard of the Prince’s birth, but no invitation arrived, he decided to make his displeasure known.

The day of the feast, the King and Queen spent the day showing off their new son to their people. He was dressed in a long, lacy gown that had been worn by generations of princes and princesses before him, laid out in a golden bassinette so that the people could file past to get a look at the sweet face of their future ruler.

Each man and woman exclaimed at the Prince’s beauty, and how pleased they were that he had finally been born, but hidden among them was the wizard. He watched with growing hatred as the King, Queen, and all their subjects adored the Prince, then went away to plan.

That night, in the great hall, three tables holding golden plates and goblets were laid out on the kingdom’s finest linen, and the great witches and wizards lined up to bestow gifts on the Prince. Each had conceived a special spell as a gift for the boy, and one by one, they began to cast them over him.

Snape, a great alchemist, gave the boy a potion for increasing intelligence. McGonagall, a shape-shifter, gave the boy the ability to change his shape. The great truth-sayer, Skeeter, was next. She gave the boy the ability to always use truth to its best advantage. And after her came Moody, a great warrior-mage, who gave the boy the ability to always be aware of the danger around him. Next was Tonks, who gave him the ability to be whoever he could wish. Flitwick cast a charm that would increase his attractiveness as he grew. Sprout brought him a plant that would grow to shield the palace as he grew, so it would eventually become a part of the castle’s internal protections. Slughorn cast a spell that would give the boy charisma, drawing people to him. 

As the last four guests approached the bassinette to give their gifts, the neglected wizard appeared.

“Forgot someone?” he asked the King and Queen with a scowl.

The King stepped forward to protect his son, but the wizard pointed his staff at the boy. “One more step, Lucius, and you have no heir. I help you, and this is how you repay me?”

The oldest of the remaining wizards stepped forward then. “Stop this, Tom. There is no need—”

The dark wizard turned to glare at the man who had spoken, then laughed. “Dumbledore? Are you their protector now? Go home, old man. Your power is fading. You can’t save them.”

He turned back to the stricken couple. The Queen was clinging to her husband, tears streaking her face. “Please,” she begged.

The wizard laughed. “You should have thought of this before you sent out your invitations, highness,” he said with a cruel smile. “You have your heir, Lucius. For eighteen years. And at the end of that time, the boy will simply waste away.” There was a flash of light, and the Prince began to cry.

“No!” the King cried out. But it was too late. The spell was cast. And Tom was gone.

The Queen stumbled forward, taking up her son in her arms and weeping loudly. 

But Dumbledore was quick to stand at her side. “Do not weep, your highness. All is not lost.”

The King looked at the wizard warily. “You can fix this?” he asked.

The wizard shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, that is something I am unable to do. No wizard can completely undo that which another has done. But I can weaken the effects enough until someone can find a way to break the spell, sire. If you will allow?”

The King watched him for a moment before nodding. “Very well. But if I should lose my son, Dumbledore…”

Twinkling eyes met grey. “I assure you, my lord, you will not,” the wizard said with a smile. He turned to the Queen. “If I may, highness?”

The Queen wavered for a moment, but at a nod from her husband, she held out her son. “Save him,” she whispered.

Dumbledore nodded, then set to work. “Intelligence will stand him in good stead. But his ability to change form will not appear until the day Tom’s spell takes effect. He will change to his alternate form, and there stay until someone comes to break the spell. The vines will grow around his resting place until that day, and keep him safe from harm. He will live.”

Before the relieved parents could react, however, one of the others stepped forward—Trelawney. She was a rather bumbling witch, but her prophesies had a tendency to come true, despite her predilection for drink. 

Now she spoke, in her most airy voice. “And he will remain just so until someone—his true love—comes to break the spell.”

The members of the court turned to her in shock. Even the King could do no more than blink. Finally, he waved to their guests. “Thank you for coming. I think the Queen and I should retire now. But the feast is prepared, and we hope you will enjoy it, whether or not we are here.” The wizards all nodded and moved to seat themselves, and the King and Queen swept from the room, trying to comfort themselves that they would have at least eighteen good years with their son. Even though both knew it could never be enough.

* * *

Prince Draco grew up, happy, and loved. He was adored by all the people in the kingdom, and was often seen with his two personal guards as he rode along the streets or out in the country. Kings from far and wide sent their ambassadors to negotiate a marriage between Draco and their daughters, but none seemed to catch Draco’s interest. He was more interested in art, hunting, and the history of his kingdom than spending time with some girl he knew nothing about.

But as his eighteenth birthday approached, the King and Queen began to worry. What if Dumbledore’s enchantment failed? What if the Prince still wasted away? Neither of them could bear it. He was their only heir, and their joy. And to lose him would mean the end of their line.

As time drew closer to the Prince’s birthday, the King and Queen began to find ways to keep their son inside. He had fittings. He needed to pick the menu. His father wanted to have him attend regular meetings with ambassadors or counselors he didn’t have time to meet himself. And always, they made certain Draco was never alone. Even at night, one or both of his personal guards stood at the door to his personal tower. No one would hurt their son. Not if they could help it.

Soon Draco was chafing under these restrictions. He was quite a clever young man, and he knew that something was bothering his parents. But as his father had forbidden any mention of the Prince’s fate, he was simply unaware of his impending fate.

And so, like any boy placed under what they considered unnecessary restrictions, he found a way to escape from time to time. 

Most times, he was retrieved and placed on a much stricter guard for the next day or so, but there were occasional times when he managed to find a few moments to himself with no one the wiser. He simply didn’t understand why everyone was so tense about his upcoming birthday. After all, he’d had seventeen of them before. Surely this one would be no different from any other?

So when he found a chance to escape on the morning of his birthday, he took it. His guards had been distracted from watching him by the parade of food being brought in to the kitchen, and Draco slipped out a side door, and into the gardens. He hadn’t managed to be outside in several days, and the need to feel wind and smell fresh air was beginning to distract him from anything else.

He simply couldn’t resist, and made his way to the centre of the gardens, getting drunk on the smell of the flowers, and wishing he could go down to the stables and take out his favourite horse. But the last time he’d managed to escape with his horse, the stablemaster himself had been whipped, so the likely chance of him managing that was slim to nil, he knew. Especially with everyone arriving for the party that evening. Too many people around to manage to slip past. Still, at least he was able to escape for a short time.

Instead, he made his way to his favourite fountain. But someone had beaten him to it. He hid behind the hedge, watching the other man, wondering who he was. He couldn’t recall ever seeing him before, but that didn’t mean the man wouldn’t know who he was. And as he’d escaped his captivity for the moment, he wanted to prolong the time he had out in the fresh air. 

When the man turned to look directly at him, Draco’s breathing sped up. Caught. Well, a Prince did not hide from others. He stepped out from the shadow of the hedge and approached the man. 

“Hello. Are you here for the celebration?”

There was something dark in the man’s responding smile. “In a way. I was simply here to meet you, precious Prince. Eighteen today, is it not?”

Draco nodded slowly. “Who should I tell my parents you were, when they ask who I met in the gardens?” Something about this man was off, but Draco wasn’t sure what, beyond the way the man’s smile made him shiver.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll know, Draco, but if you should get a chance, simply tell them that Tom sends his regards.”

“Tom?” A common name. But Draco nodded all the same. He held out his hand. “It is good to meet you.”

The evil smile almost made him pull back his hand, but then Tom was grasping it, and he almost couldn’t hold back a sigh of relief when the man released it once more without trying to drag him off. Instead he grinned. “Have a lovely party, Prince Draco.” And then he spun around and quite literally vanished.

Draco blinked at the spot where the man had stood, certain something must be wrong with what had just happened. But how could there be? He was still here, after all. The man hadn’t hurt him, even. Still, it had been enough excitement for one day. Especially with a party still to come. 

Draco slowly made his way back towards the palace, his mind lost in thought as he walked. It wasn’t until he reached for the door that he realized something was wrong. That wasn’t his arm. He held it up, blinking at the claws and scales that moved and shifted in the sunlight as he turned his hand. What had that man done to him?

He hurried to a nearby fountain, glancing into the water, and recoiled at what he saw—he was a dragon!

The image that looked out at Draco from the surface of the fountain wasn’t grizzly or scary, but it most definitely wasn’t his own face. It was a sleek silver snout with huge blue eyes rimmed with thicker silver scales that flashed with just a touch of gold in the sunlight. The mouth was filled with rather large, sharp teeth, and a pointed tongue that snaked out in discomfited annoyance. How had the man managed this?

Draco slumped by the fountain. What was he going to do? Even if he’d wanted to explain to his parents how this had happened…it was still his fault. After all, if he’d done what they’d wanted, he’d never have been out here in the first place. But he wouldn’t even be able to do that. The first glimpse of him they got, they’d likely try to kill him.

Still…he had to get some help. People would start looking for him soon, and when they found a dragon in his place…better to not be here. All he could do was hope he found someone who would at least try to understand him before running away.

Stumbling to his new feet, Draco looked around. Now that he was more aware of his new form, he realized he was trapped in the garden. His form was too large to fit through the door into the palace, and he’d be more likely to knock over the hedges than fit between them. So there was only one other possibility. He shifted to look back into the fountain, hoping that he was the sort of dragon that could fly, and focused on flexing his shoulders, looking for some sort of flicker of movement behind his head in the water.

At first there was nothing, but just as Draco was about to give up and try something else, he saw a flicker out of the corner of his eyes. Silvery blue. He tried the same motion again, pleased when he saw the tip of a wing appear. The question was, could he use them? After all, flying wasn’t something one did every day. Not as a human, anyway. 

With a few experimental flaps of his wings, Draco stretched, then crouched low, hoping this would work, and leapt into the air, his eyes opening wide as his wings caught at the air and pulled him higher into the sky. It took him a moment to get a hang of it, but once he had, he couldn’t understand how he’d ever managed to survive without this. He’d obviously been born to fly.

For a few minutes, Draco did nothing more than swoop and circle in the air, but then a shout caught his attention, and he remembered his problem. Changing back. He looked down at the palace, so small below, then dove down to see what was going on.

He had to pull away quickly when several of the archers, who had obviously been positioned on the battlements at the sight of Draco’s new form, began to fire upon him. The few arrows that did reach him only bounced off, but it was enough to tell Draco that he wouldn’t be able to land without terrifying everyone below. 

All he could do now was hope he found someone who wasn’t scared of dragons. Or who would at least allow him a chance. Better still if they were coming to the palace for the feast.

Draco took off again, following the road out of town, then into the fields around the castle. There were plenty of people along the road, but Draco was scared to approach most, as they were in large groups that he was pretty sure included fighters to protect them on the road.

Just as he was about to give up, he saw a young man about his own age on the road, two older men walking with him. This was his chance. Surely he would be able to defend himself against three.

Landing several yards from the road, then approached them slowly, hoping that the three would not fright at the first sight of him. The young man seemed to be the leader, though he was far younger than the other two. One of the older men walked with a slight limp, and the other ranged far ahead, not merely to scout ahead, but also because he seemed to be made of energy, as though he hadn’t been out in the fresh air in years. 

“God, I’ve missed this place,” he was saying.

“So why did you leave, then?” the young man asked. “I mean…it was your home.”

“Not really. I mean, yeah…I was born here, but…this was never home.”

“What he means, Harry, is that he ran away when he was young.”

The first man laughed. “Yeah, well, with that mother of mine so pleased that her sweet niece had nabbed the King…you’d have left too, Remus. Besides, I was much happier spending time with your father, Harry. He was a good king.”

The young man nodded. “So you all keep telling me. I wish I’d met him.”

The second man put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “We do, too, Harry.”

Draco blinked at the first man’s words. Niece? King? That had to mean that the man was a noble, at least…the other didn’t appear to be. And the young man seemed quite unassuming. Not to mention how familiar the two men were with him. Still, if Draco was to believe the first man’s words…this was his mother’s cousin. So they had to be coming to his birthday, didn’t they?

All Draco could do was hope he was right. He’d flown so far already. Whoever these three were, they were his last chance. He took a deep breath, and stepped out from under the cover of the trees he’d been hiding in to listen.

The man walking next to the young man was the first to notice Draco when he came out of the bushes. His eyes went wide, and he motioned to Harry to move back, then called out to the man ahead. “Um…Padfoot…?”

The other turned. “What is it, Mo—“ He caught sight of Draco, and his sword came out. “Fuck! Harry…get behind us!”

“Oh, very nice language, Padfoot. Honestly…”

“Moony, it’s a dragon! Can we discuss language later?”

The young man they’d been calling Harry ignored both of them and stepped toward Draco. “You don’t look so scary,” he told Draco with a soft smile.

“Padfoot” saw this and moved towards Harry, his eyes widening in alarm. “Harry!” 

But Harry was already reaching out to stroke Draco’s muzzle. Draco pressed into the caress, glad someone, at least, didn’t see him as dangerous. “Calm down, Sirius. He’s fine. He’s…purring.” Harry smiled. “I think he’s friendly.”

Harry had found a spot on the top of Draco’s head, and was scratching it in a way that was utter perfection. Draco leaned into his hand, but hadn’t realized he was making any noise until Harry’d said something. He blinked at the young man, then tried for a smile before realizing his face just didn’t work that way any longer.

“Looks like he’s getting ready to eat you,” Padfoot was saying, his sword still out.

“He’s just enjoying himself, Sirius. Honestly.” Harry sighed, and continued to scratch at his head. “It’s too bad we can’t take him with us. I bet the Prince would love a pet dragon.”

“Right. Narcissa’d love me even more if you brought her son a giant wild beast.”

“He’s not wild. Are you?” Harry asked Draco, and Draco shook his head, hoping to encourage them in this line of thought. “See?” Harry said to Padfoot. “He even understands us! He must have been trained by someone. Maybe he’s lost!”

“Moony” shook his head at this. “I don’t think so, Harry. Likely he’s just generally more intelligent than the usual beasty. But either way, we can’t take him with us. We’re late as it is. We’ll be lucky if we make it in time for the feast. Come on. We need to get moving again.”

Harry gave Draco a regretful look, and a last scratch, then moved away to follow Padfoot once more, and Draco’s heart sank. He couldn’t let them leave him here! They were his last chance! He took off into the sky, then landed in front of Padfoot, blocking their way.

Padfoot jumped back. “Fucking hell!”

“Padfoot…” Moony warned him.

“Well look at the bloody thing! I think it’s imprinted on Harry…”

“I doubt that very much, Padfoot. He’s not young enough to have imprinted on him. Likely he’s just friendly, and was enjoying having Harry pay attention to him. Stop overreacting.”

Harry shook his head and stepped forward once more, meeting Draco’s eyes. “Don’t suppose you can talk, can you?” he asked Draco softly.

Draco shook his head. It was very annoying that he couldn’t, really, but there was no way to change that, so he would have to find another way to communicate with these three. If he wanted help, anyway…

Harry was watching him now, his head tilted to the side. “But you do understand us, don’t you?”

Draco’s heart rose at that. So long as Harry asked the right questions… He nodded again, this time more eagerly.

“Are you lost?” he asked. Draco shook his head. “You’re from around here, then?” Draco nodded. “So…where’s your family? Oh…right…um…did you get separated from them?” he asked.

Draco had to think about that one for a moment before he shook his head no.

“No? So…they’re nearby?”

Draco nodded this time. After all, the castle wasn’t too far for him.

“So…the mountains, then?”

Making a face, Draco shook his head. They’d never get anywhere at this rate. He huffed, and a small puff of smoke emerged from his mouth. He started.

It was nothing to what Padfoot did, though. “Look! What did I say? Get back, Harry.”

Moony put a hand on Padfoot’s shoulder. “No…wait, Sirius. Look at him. He looks as startled as we are. I don’t think he knew he could do that…Like…he’s new to the form.” He shot a pointed look at the other man. 

Padfoot raised an eyebrow. “You think…he’s like me?”

There seemed to be a bit of electricity between them at the words. Even Harry seemed excited. “You mean…he’s…human?”

Moony shrugged. “Ask.” 

Harry turned back to Draco. “Are you…human?”

Draco would have shouted for joy at the question, but nodded instead. 

“So…your family is in town?” 

Finally! An answer he could use to prod them in the right direction. Draco shook his head.

“No?” Harry looked confused. “Sirius…isn’t your ability a rather rare gift? I mean…it’s not something farmers tend to learn, is it?”

“Not that I’m aware of…”

Turning back to Draco, he asked, “You’re not a farmer, are you?”

Draco huffed without thinking, and another puff of smoke filled the air.

Harry waved it away, but smiled. “I’ll take that as a no, then? So…are you from the palace, then?”

Yes! Draco was so excited, he nearly jumped into the air, but managed to stop himself, nodding instead.

Harry smiled, obviously able to see how pleased he was. Then he sighed. “This is going to take us forever at this rate. Look, Sirius…can’t you talk to him in your other form?”

Padfoot shook his head. “Afraid not. Dogs and dragons don’t really have much in common, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t be able to understand him any more in that form than this.”

Turning back to Draco, Harry watched him for a moment before speaking again. “So…you’re from the castle…you live there all the time?” Draco nodded, more excited. “And…are you friends with the Prince?” 

Draco blinked at him, not having expected the question. He slowly shook his head no.

“No? You’re not? You don’t like him?” Well, that wasn’t a helpful question at all. Draco huffed again. “So…you do like him, then?” Harry asked, confused. 

Harry might not be getting the gist, but it seemed someone else was. “Harry…what if…he _is_ the Prince?” Moony asked slowly.

Upon hearing the words, Draco nodded vigorously. Harry glanced up at him. “You’re…the Prince?” he asked, his eyes wide. “How…? I mean…no one ever said anything about you being a dragon before…”

Padfoot snorted. “Well…it does fit his name…”

Draco glared at him, then looked back at Harry, hopeful that now he would finally get help.

“I wish you could tell us. Maybe one of your parents could help?” 

After a moment, Draco shook his head. They didn’t know, after all. They’d think he was just a beast as Harry and his friends had.

“They…don’t know you’ve changed?” Harry asked slowly.

Draco shook his head.

“They must be frantic, then. I mean…if you’re missing…” Draco nodded encouragingly. He couldn’t get close, but these three could, and at least they could tell his parents what had happened to him. 

“So…we should take you to them, then,” Harry said, seeming far more certain now, but Draco shook his head. That was a bad idea. He couldn’t care less if his parents found out he’d gone outside, but learning their heir was a dragon? That would just not go well. And then there was the fact that the knights would probably slay him before Harry got a word in edgewise… 

“You…don’t want them to know? But…your birthday…”

Hanging his head, Draco nodded. He wasn’t sure _what_ to do, really. He looked at Harry, hoping he might have a solution.

Then Moony spoke again. “Why don’t you go back with him, Harry? We’ll follow behind. I doubt he could carry all three of us, after all, and hopefully the two of you can come up with something?”

Draco wasn’t sure he liked that idea. But Harry seemed to think it was a good idea. “You need to get back, Draco. At least I’ll be able to explain a bit, right?”

Draco nodded slowly. He knew Harry was right. The idea still scared him, though. What if the guards attacked him again?

“Can you carry me on your back, Draco? I know you’re new at this, but…I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Draco blinked at him, then nodded, dropping forward a bit so that Harry could climb on and settle between his shoulder blades.

“Be careful there, Harry…their court isn’t like home. And…who knows what they’ll think when you arrive with their Prince who’s suddenly a dangerous beast…”

“I’ll be fine, Sirius. Just…hurry? I don’t want to be there without you for too long.”

“We’ll be right behind,” Moony assured him with a smile. The two men waved, then Draco gathered himself and sprang into the air, hoping that Harry had a good grip. At least it was a quick flight, he thought to himself.

The flight was a quick one, though this time Draco avoided the road as best he could, landing out of sight of the main gate so that Harry could climb off his back. Harry scratched his head again, and Draco was quick to lean into the caress, letting it relax him.

“We’ll get it figured out, Draco. I promise. Come on.”

Draco pulled back, shaking his head. He couldn’t do that. The guards would never listen to Harry if he did.

“Halfway, at least?” Harry asked. “I promise I won’t let them hurt you. That’s what has you worried, isn’t it?”

Draco nodded, then sighed, letting out a small puff of smoke and nodded again. He’d go. But only halfway. Just out of sight of the gate. He didn’t want to scare people, after all.

“You’ll come with me?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded again.

“All right,” Harry said with a smile. “Come on.”

They walked towards the front gate, Draco stopping in the shade of some bushes as Harry approached. He could tell that the guards were still on high alert from seeing him earlier. However, when Harry approached to talk to one of them, he was waved away. Draco noticed that there were many people on the road, waiting for…something. Why were they just waiting? Why weren’t they letting people in?

Harry made his way back to where Draco was hiding. “They won’t let me talk to anyone. And wouldn’t say why. How did you get out here, Draco? Were you out here when you changed?”

Draco shook his head, then tossed his head to indicate he’d been inside the walls. Harry seemed to understand. “Can you fly us inside?”

If Draco had been human, he might have bit his lip at the question, but he refrained, not sure how to answer. The archers were still fresh in his memory. What if they were still up there? They might hurt Harry. Finally, he nodded slowly, then bent down to let him climb on once more. After all, he could stay out of reach until he was sure, then decide from there. He’d keep well away so that there would be no risk to Harry at all.

Draco moved back away from the wall before he took flight. He was really getting the hang of this, but he wanted to be well away so that the arrows wouldn’t be able to reach when they came into view. He swooped high above the walls, then relaxed when he didn’t see the archers. But he did notice something further inside the walls. Near the tower that housed his room. There was a small crowd there. He flew toward it, almost forgetting about Harry.

He alighted near the tower, and Harry slid off quickly. “Hello?” Several of the guards turned, then gasped at the sight of the dragon, so close by.

Draco felt a wash of relief when his father appeared from the midst of the crowd. “Who are you, and why did you bring a dragon here?” he asked, and Draco could hear the growl just below the surface of his words.

Harry bowed. “Majesty. My name is King Harry. I came to celebrate our countries’ alliance and bring your son a gift for his birthday.”

“And you felt he needed a dragon?” the King asked, the growl less hidden now.

Harry blinked. “No, sire. The dragon…he _is_ your son.”


	11. The Treasured Prince Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King and Queen attempt to break the spell on their son.

The entire crowd turned to look at Draco at Harry’s pronouncement, and he couldn’t help but be glad that he wasn’t able to blush through his scales at the unexpected attention. 

The King turned back to Harry after a moment of examining the overlarge reptile that Harry had suggested might be his son, and scowled at him. “Just what are you playing at? What makes you think that that is my son? We were under the impression that he was in his tower…and simply unable to get out due to the vines that had suddenly grown around it.” He shot a warning look at Draco’s guards, who shrank back. Draco knew they were thinking about how angry he would be if he discovered they had been lying to him. Draco knew they would never have told him they’d lost track of him. Especially after a dragon had been seen. His father would have been sure to cut off their heads before going to find his son.

Draco echoed his father’s glare at them, then swished his tail, causing the crowd around them to scatter before moving towards his tower. As his father had said, it had been covered in vines somehow. Draco couldn’t understand how that had happened. 

Still, a good burst of flame should take care of that… He swished his tail again to clear the way of any stragglers who might get in the way, then took a deep breath, hoping he could manage a good blast of fire. After all, so far, he’d only managed a few puffs of smoke. In the background, he could hear Harry arguing with his father, but somehow, he knew this was more important. He let out the breath, and with it came a gust of flame, causing the vines to wither from the walls.

There were shouts from behind him: delight, astonishment, horror from a few, then his guards, gormless as ever, tore open the door without a word and ran up the stairs, shouting his name as though they didn’t know he couldn’t possibly be in there. Apparently, they believed their own lies. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, turning back to Harry. 

His father was looking at him with new eyes, at least. But it was his mother who spoke. “Draco?” she asked quietly, approaching him, her hand extended. Draco blinked, then nodded sadly, leaning into the caress. “What…” She stopped abruptly, her eyes wide, then turned to her husband. “The curse. The prophesy…Lucius…”

He nodded, looking weary. He turned to one of the guards nearby. “Send for Dumbledore. Looks like we’ll need his help to fix this.” Once the guard had disappeared, he turned back to Harry. “My apologies, King Harry. As you can imagine, things have been in a bit of an uproar here this morning.”

“No need to apologize, your majesty. I understand. I was just happy to help.”

Draco’s mother looked around. “But…where is your entourage? Surely you didn’t come all this way alone?” 

Harry shook his head. “No. Sirius and Remus, my personal guards are with me. But Draco needed help so I came back here with him after he finally made clear to us who he was.”

Draco saw his mother react to the first name, though she said nothing about it. “We shall send riders to retrieve them. You shouldn’t be without such loyal guards. And we’ll have the best guest room made up for you, as well.”

“And Draco?” Harry asked her. 

The Queen turned to look at her son, seeming rather crestfallen. “Hopefully the wizard will know what to do to help him,” she sighed.

“He needs to be startled,” a voice came from the far side of the courtyard. Draco looked up to see an old man with a long grey beard making his way across to where they stood. “It is a difficult thing to undo the first time, self-transformation, but it can be done. Never fear, majesty.”

“Startled?” The King looked dubious about this suggestion at best. “And how would you suggest we accomplish that, Dumbledore?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Why, a kiss, of course.”

The King rolled his eyes. “Not that nonsense about his true love again?”

“Well, one’s first kiss with someone is an astonishing thing, is it not? Surely it will be enough to shock him back to his true form,” the wizard said, his tone making it sound as though it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

Draco gaped at the man. He was barely allowed to be alone in the same room as a girl, let alone kiss one…his father had always stressed not giving any woman more hold on him than she should be allowed. So all his visits with women—and girls—had been carefully chaperoned. And yet now, he was supposed to kiss one? As a dragon?

But even worse, it seemed as though his parents were actually considering it. 

“There are many girls here today who might make an excellent queen for Draco. Perhaps we should make a contest of it? The girl who restores him to his true form will rule at his side?” The Queen suggested.

“It is not a horrific idea,” the King agreed, eyeing his son’s new form. “But will they even consider it?”

His wife smiled. “For a chance to be queen? What woman in her right mind would not? We will simply make certain that only those we hand-pick get the chance.” Her smile turned triumphant, and Draco’s heart sank. He knew, no matter what, that he was not going to be pleased, whatever might happen. 

He was too young to get married! But then, he was hardly in a position to point that out just now. All he could do was hope that his mother’s plan failed. Even if it meant he had to stay in this form forever.

The next few hours were filled with making the Prince comfortable. He was pleased that Harry chose to stay with him. Even though they’d never met before, Draco felt rather attached to him. After all, Harry had been the only one to actually understand what had happened. Now if only he could get him to convince his parents to call off this horrific kissing contest…

They’d brought him food, but the only thing he’d been able to stomach was the roast that the kitchen had been roasting for the feast that night, which had made Draco a bit embarrassed, but then, he’d been doing quite a bit this morning, and he’d needed it. When his stomach had rumbled, the ground had literally trembled. He’d heard his father send out the hunters. They had enough for the feast that night—just barely—but it would mean that there was nothing left in the stores after.

And through it all, the food, the arrangements for the contest, Harry sat and talked to him. Apparently, Harry had lost his parents when he had been quite young, and had only just managed to regain his crown. Remus and Sirius—also known as Moony and Padfoot, had been his father’s two closest advisors, and had helped Harry recover his kingdom, along with a small group of others, some of whom were working now to restore his father’s castle to its former glory. “It’s not nearly as beautiful as your family’s palace, of course, but I’m fond of it…”

Draco couldn’t imagine growing up anywhere but the palace. He’d never even considered that there even _were_ other ways to live. Sure, he knew people did, but as it hadn’t concerned him before, he hadn’t given it any thought at all.

He wished he could ask Harry questions about it. What it was like to be without his parents that way. How he felt about becoming the ruler of a kingdom at so early an age. What it was like to be able to make his own choices in life… It all puzzled Draco. There was just so much to ask. But at least Harry kept talking.

His monologue was only interrupted when Remus and Sirius appeared. 

“Harry!” Sirius called out across the small courtyard Draco had been set up in.

Looking up, Harry smiled. And Draco couldn’t help but think that while Harry might not have parents, he definitely had family. He hurried to the other two men, greeting them with open arms and a wide smile. “You made it!”

Remus smiled softly and nodded. “They sent horses for us. Quite pleasant company, as well. Met Sirius’s cousin as we came in, too.”

“Cousin?” Harry asked. Draco was curious too. After all, Sirius had mentioned a cousin once before. Had he really meant Draco’s mother?

Sirius made a face. “Narcissa. The Prince’s mother.”

“You didn’t tell me you were related to the Queen, Sirius!” Harry exclaimed.

“Yeah, well, we never were on the best of terms. Did she treat you all right, Harry?”

“Of course, Sirius. I’ve been here with Draco the entire time.”

Sirius shot Draco a distrustful glare. “Tending to him?”

“No, Sirius. Just talking to him. I think he needed a friend, really. He seems a bit upset by what his parents have planned.”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, Narcissa told us about that. Can’t blame the poor kid.”

“Still, they’re hardly doing it to upset him, Sirius…”

“Oh, come on, Moony. I know you don’t know her, but Narcissa grabs every opportunity to control the situation, just like my dear mother. The poor boy’s doomed.”

Personally, Draco couldn’t help but agree with Sirius a bit. He loved his mother, but she did have a tendency to want to manipulate things the way she wanted them to be. He nodded, and the three looked at him.

“Look, even Draco agrees with me,” Sirius said triumphantly.

Remus sighed. “All I’m saying is that she’s trying to help him, Sirius.”

Draco huffed at that, then turned back to Harry and nudged him with his head. If he was going to suffer through this torment, he at least wanted his new friend with him through the ordeal. Harry reached up to scratch at Draco’s head automatically, and Draco sighed happily. At least something about this was going well…

Unfortunately, just as Draco was getting comfortable, his mother returned—followed by a small group of girls. Draco couldn’t help but laugh—or at least, as good as he could in this form—at the look on their faces. They looked as though they thought he was going to eat them, rather than that _they_ were going to kiss _him_. He shook his head. But it did give him an idea.

Narcissa was telling the girls that there was nothing to worry about, that he was still Prince Draco and that he would not eat them. Draco decided to give them a look at his new form, and see what kind of—awe—it could inspire. He stood up to his full height, stretching his neck out and towering over the others. There were a few shrieks of horror from the girls, but for now, Draco ignored them. He swished his tail a few times, banging it into the tree he knew was behind him, and then, for good measure, he gave his wings a few flaps—just to get out the kinks, of course.

The shrieks turned to screams at the thumping, and when his wings spread, one of the girls fainted, and another took to her heels, running for the safety of the castle. If Draco had been able, he’d have smirked. Still, there were four left. That was too bad.

And worse, his mother looked furious. Draco pulled back, a bit ashamed. Remus was right. She was just trying to help him. But really, did she need to marry him off to do it?

She came across the lawn to where he was sitting, then glared at him. “Do you truly want to be a dragon for the rest of your life, Draco?” He shook his head. “Then please allow me to do what I can to help you,” she said, her eyes slightly narrowed. He nodded, then watched as she moved back across to the girls.

All he could do now was hope that none of them would be successful.

At the Queen’s insistence, the remaining girls lined up on the lawn a few feet from Draco. It made him feel ridiculous. Like he was being put on display. The only thing that kept him from trying to scare them off again was Harry’s hand smoothing over his scales and occasionally running a hand up to scratch at that spot on his head.

The Queen urged the first girl forward, and Draco had to restrain himself almost as much as it looked like the girl was trying to do to keep from running the other direction. She leaned in, her eyes squeezed tight, and…nothing. He could barely even feel the touch on his scales. He looked down at her, then over at his mother and shook his head. It hadn’t been bad. Just…nothing, really.

This process was repeated with the second and third girls, with no discernable effect. As the last remaining girl approached, Draco couldn’t help but give a sigh, which resulted in another cloud of smoke that enveloped the girl, and with a shriek, she hurried after the girls who had already failed and left.

The Queen was not pleased at that. “Draco! I thought I was clear.”

Draco shook his head. He hadn’t meant to upset the last one. He’d just been so frustrated by the whole process that he’d reacted naturally.

“Aw, lay off him, Cissa. Can’t you see the kid is just tired? Give him a break.”

Narcissa turned to glower at her cousin. “He hardly needs you as an example, Sirius. Personally, I worry about Harry, with you at his side. Does he know just how deviant you are, Sirius?”

Draco blinked at that. What did that mean?

But apparently, Harry knew. “What? That he loves a man, rather than a woman? What’s so deviant about that? Love is love, majesty.”

Draco was floored at this. Sirius was…a pouf? He’d never really considered the idea at all before now, really. Poufs were just people to stay away from, and deal with as little as possible. But while Sirius was a bit obnoxious, he’d in no way struck Draco as any different than he was. So…what did that mean, then?

“Harry,” his mother was saying now in the calm voice she saved for his father when he looked about ready to execute someone for no real reason at all, “it is a dangerous thing to encourage. It’s…wrong. He is making a mockery of those of us who try to live good, wholesome lives. Surely you don’t think he is a good example for how you should live?”

Draco saw Harry’s eyes flash at that. “I think, majesty, that when all seemed lost, Sirius and Remus were the two most likely to stand by me, and they are the reason I am even standing here today. The rest is just so much noise. What do I care what they do in the privacy of their rooms?”

At that, Draco looked wide-eyed at the two men. They were lovers? Harry had chosen to travel to their kingdom with two who were lovers? And had felt comfortable with it? 

Queen Narcissa shook her head, her expression saying what she obviously felt she could not. “Well, I suppose you will just have to learn in your own time, won’t you?” And then, before Harry could respond, she turned. “I suppose I’ll have to see if Lucius has managed to find more candidates.” Then she crossed the garden, and disappeared through the door leading into the palace.

Remus sighed. “Well, that went well. I’m honestly amazed she didn’t have us thrown from the castle.”

“Give her a chance, Moony. She’s still got plenty of time,” Sirius said, sinking to the bench Harry had procured for himself. “Likely she’ll tell dear King Lucius, and he’ll have us tossed in the dungeons. He won’t much care that Harry has his own kingdom and that it will likely cause an incident…”

Draco glowered. His father wouldn’t, would he? Harry was his friend! He’d helped him! He curled his tail around the bench, encircling both Harry and Sirius.

“Looks like we have at least one friend in the royal family, Sirius,” Harry said with a smile, reaching up to scratch at Draco’s head again in thanks.

“Maybe…” Sirius met Draco’s eyes, and Draco nodded to say that Harry’s words were exactly what he’d meant. After all, right now, Draco felt like they were his only friends in the world.

“He seems a nice enough bloke, Sirius. Why not trust him?”

“He is still their son, Harry. I mean, granted, he’s probably pretty grateful right now because you helped him, but what about later?”

“What do you mean, later, Sirius?”

“Well, you have neighboring kingdoms. And you won’t be kids forever. Who says you’ll be able to keep peace with him? I’m sure he’s just as opinionated and persnickety as his parents…”

“Padfoot, stop. You don’t know that.”

“What, Moony? I mean…look at James! Look at what happened to him! He trusted Peter, and what did that rat do? He sold him out!” Sirius turned back to Harry. “Friendship counts as nothing. You need to protect yourself. Besides…it wasn’t like Lucius was in a rush to help your father when Lord Voldemort tried to take over his land…”

“Sirius…that was then. Things are different now. And if Draco and I start on the right foot…” Harry met Draco’s eyes. “I’d trust you, Draco.”

The words sent something warm radiating through Draco, and if he’d been able, he would have smiled. Instead, he nodded once to Harry, hoping he would understand that he felt the same. They would be allies as long as Draco had anything to say about it.

Before their conversation could continue, however, the Queen returned, not only with another gaggle of girls, but also with the wizard Dumbledore. He made his way across to where the group sat, smiling fondly. “Sirius, Remus. It is good to see you again.”

“Dumbledore,” Remus greeted him with a nod. “We didn’t know you would be here.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Well, when one is summoned…” He smiled. “And things are in order once more in Gryffindor?”

Remus nodded again. “Things are beginning to come together, yes. We thought it would be prudent for Harry to make a few contacts while the palace was being worked on, and what better place than a royal birthday celebration?”

“What better place, indeed,” Dumbledore said, casting a glance toward the two boys. Draco’d placed his head on Harry’s lap, and was only vaguely aware of the scrutiny. “He seems to have made one friend already,” he added with a pleased smile.

“Yes. Though we are a bit concerned that they seem too friendly already. I mean…Harry doesn’t even know him! Just…this dragon. That’s not the same thing.”

“As you aren’t you when you are Padfoot, Sirius?” Dumbledore asked him.

Sirius made a face. “That’s not the same thing at all, Dumbledore!”

“And how do you know? Do you know this boy? For all you know, it is. Perhaps what Draco truly needs is a friend.”

“But you said that a kiss was what would break the spell,” Harry said.

“That is true, Harry. But that is because it is not a spell, truly. Merely started by one. He needs to choose to come back. And right now…he seems rather more happy as a dragon than he might be as an eighteen-year-old boy who is about to be married, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry nodded.

Draco hadn’t really thought of it that way. Was that why he hadn’t changed back? Not because none of the girls had been the right one, but because he was happier here with Harry than he knew he would be married to some simpering girl?

Unfortunately, that was the moment when Narcissa called Draco back to meet with the latest batch of girls. It took all his energy not to snarl at them, but he managed, sneaking a glance over at Harry between the girls’ kisses.

This round ended much the way the first had done, though Draco managed to repress the snort of disgust that had caused the final girl to run off last time.

Apparently the Queen agreed. “This is ridiculous. Draco…”

Draco blinked at her. She couldn’t really blame him for this, could she? That would be ridiculous.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll see if there are any possible candidates left. But…I don’t know what we will do if this doesn’t work…” She turned and made her way back into the castle, and Draco turned back to his new friends who were talking softly. He saw Remus put his hand on Sirius’s shoulder and whisper something that seemed to calm the other man. And at the sight, something flared inside him. Yes, that was what he wanted. That kind of love.

He glanced toward Harry, who was smiling at the other two, and couldn’t help but wonder. If Harry approved, did that mean that he had the same leanings? Or was he just fond of them, so he let it slide?

Moving carefully back over to where the three were still talking to the wizard, Draco placed his head in Harry’s lap. Harry’s fingers immediately went to the ridge of his head and began to scratch. One thing that Draco had learned in all this, even despite his size, it was quite easy for people to forget he was truly human and intelligent while in this form, and he was learning all sorts of interesting things as they talked around him.

It was so peaceful. Harry scratching at his head, the hum of their voices, the soft cloth of Harry’s robe under his scales… Draco snuffled a bit, his eyes closing in pleasure. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this relaxed. And it was all because of Harry.

The thought brought Draco up short. He glanced at Dumbledore, then at Sirius and Remus, who were ribbing each other good-naturedly, and then at Harry, who was smiling at the display. Dumbledore had said, hadn’t he, that what he needed was a friend? And that maybe Harry could be that friend? The more Draco thought about it, the more he realized that the wizard might have been purposefully nudging him in this direction.

Hadn’t he himself thought that he’d like a relationship as pleasant as Sirius and Remus’s? And he liked Harry. It was true, they didn’t know each other well, but they’d have to be allies. Wouldn’t that be easier if they were friendly?

Draco nudged Harry’s shoulder with his head, and Harry turned to blink at him. “What, Draco? Did you need something?”

Draco was glad his blush couldn’t show through his scales. He nodded, then nuzzled Harry with his nose.

“What? I don’t know what you want, Draco. Are you okay?”

Draco nodded, then nuzzled him more insistently. He couldn’t kiss in this form. Not in any way he could think of. All he could do was hope that Harry got the clue.

“I think, Harry,” Dumbledore broke in, “that he has chosen you for the one to ‘help’ him.”

Both boys jumped at that. Draco because he’d forgotten that they weren’t alone, and Harry because the idea was one that simply hadn’t occurred to him. “‘Help’ him?” Dumbledore nodded, and Harry turned back to Draco. “You want me to…kiss you?” he asked softly.

Draco held his breath, but nodded slowly. What if Harry said no? Of course, if he did…he somehow knew that he’d be stuck in this form forever more.

But Harry didn’t say no. In fact, he didn’t say anything. He just leaned in and pressed his lips to Draco’s muzzle.

The second Harry’s lips touched his scales, Draco knew that it didn’t matter whether or not this worked. This was what he wanted, either way. Harry kissing him. But then he knew it _had_ worked, because he could feel Harry’s lips against his cheek, and then he was shifting his face and pressing very human lips to Harry’s, his hands going around Harry’s neck as he shifted to settle in his lap properly.

The kiss didn’t stop until they heard an angry shout from across the garden. A shout from a very familiar, and rather horrified voice. “Draco! What are you…! Dear god!”

Draco looked up to see not only his mother, but his father storming towards them. He jumped off Harry’s lap, then looked down at himself, and back at Harry before facing his father once more, a wide grin on his face. “It worked!”

“What do you mean, ‘It worked?’” his father asked, barely holding back the snarl. “You were kissing a _man_!”

Raising an eyebrow and fixing his father with the most imperious stare he had ever managed in his life, Draco sighed. “Yes, father. I had noticed. But, as _you_ will notice, I am no longer a dragon. Doesn’t that make any difference? Harry kissed me, and I changed back.”

“With a wizard in your midst! How do you know he didn’t trick you into it?” his mother asked, horrified.

Now very annoyed, Draco turned to her. “Because, mother, the idea was mine. Not his. None of them even suggested it. I wanted him to.”

“You…suggested it?” his father asked, looking a touch ill at the idea.

Draco stuck out his chin. “And why not? I’m hardly old enough to marry some girl! I’m barely eighteen, father.”

The King’s lips narrowed at this, and he gathered himself for a moment before responding. “You are the heir to the throne. I hope you realize that love must come second to duty?”

“Of course I do, father. But it hardly means I have to give it up entirely. Besides, I barely know him. I would, however, like the opportunity to get to know him better…”

The Queen still looked a bit horrified, but even now, Draco could see his father seemed to understand. Finally, he nodded, then took the Queen’s elbow, pulling her aside so they could talk quietly for a moment. Draco could see she didn’t particularly like the way their conversation was going, either. Lucius was quick to shush her as her voice rose, but finally, she nodded, though she was still scowling. “Very well, Lucius. On your own head be it.” She turned to the girls, who had all been watching this wide-eyed, and caught their attention before leading them back into the castle. Most looked rather disappointed, now that the Prince was back in human form. Draco knew that they’d all have loved to get their claws into him.

Once they were gone, Lucius turned to his son. “It cannot be anything beyond friendship, Draco. Are we clear?”

Draco nodded slowly, afraid to even glance at Harry, now that he was so close to getting his father’s permission for this. It was far too good to be true. “Of course, father.”

King Lucius scowled over his son’s shoulder. “So…King Harry…”

Draco chanced a glance at Harry now that the worst was over. After all, Harry had kissed back, hadn’t he? That must mean something. He wasn’t disappointed. Harry didn’t look horrified. In fact, he looked—almost pleased.

Harry glanced at him before meeting the King’s gaze. “Yes, sire?”

“Do you understand that this cannot be more than friendship between two future kings?”

“I welcome that friendship, sir. I would be quite pleased to have you and your son as my allies. I think both our kingdoms would benefit from it.”

The King looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. But if you hurt my son…”

Harry smiled, then he did turn to look at Draco. “Not a chance, sir.”

The words made Draco beam at him, and suddenly, it was like no one else was there at all. Draco stepped towards him. “Quite a morning. Wizards, dragons, new friends… Still, at least I haven’t missed the feast. Would you…like to come up and help me change?”

King Lucius spoke warningly behind him. “Draco…” 

But Draco wasn’t listening to his father’s words any more. All he saw was Harry, nodding. He took Harry’s hand, lacing their fingers together, then led the way up the stairs from the garden to the hall leading to his tower. Once they’d reached the sanctuary of the stairs leading up inside his tower, he pulled Harry close.

“Kiss me again?”

At that, Harry beamed. “As often as you’d like.” His arms pulled Draco closer, and Draco lost himself in the kiss. It was everything he’d never thought he’d wanted. It was perfect.

_Finis_


	12. Draco's Dreams Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys slowly grow closer, and Draco tells another story.

“And then?”

“And then what, Potter?”

“What? That’s where it ends? With us…”

“Kissing. Yes.” Draco looked away, his nerves getting the better of him after a moment. He got to his feet again and moved to the window. “You don’t have to like it. It was just a dream. Apparently.” So why did he feel worse now than before he’d come here?

“Draco…”

Draco turned to see Harry standing behind him. “What?” He meant the word to come out sharp, but it was soft, an almost plaintive note to it.

“I’m…I…”

“No. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why do you look as though you’re going to jump out the window?”

A good question, that. And Draco didn’t really have an answer. “They’re bothering me more. To speak about them, I mean.”

“I’m sorry. I just…” Harry’s hand rose, then dropped. “I could have Kreacher bring something to drink, if you liked.”

“Have any firewhiskey?”

“Um…I can have him look.”

Draco almost nodded, but really, he just wanted this over. “Look…I should…go.” He realized now, though, that he didn’t want to. But he wasn’t going to be the one to make the first move. Not this time.

“Please don’t, Draco?”

The words alone were enough to bring heat rushing to his cheeks, and Draco turned away again, the cooler air coming from the window helping him calm a bit. “It’s getting dark. My parents will be worried.”

“You said there were seven dreams, right? And you’ve told me a bunch already, so there’s what, one left?”

“Two.” The worst two. And the last… Draco leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

“Okay. Two. So…you’re almost done. You’ve told me the rest. Surely…”

Turning back to him, Draco sighed. “The worst two.”

“Worst?”

“You _were_ in the room when I mentioned they got worse each dream, right?”

“They haven’t been that bad…”

“Aside from the kissing?”

This time, it was Harry’s turn to blush, and Draco raised an eyebrow as Harry turned away. “Wasn’t so bad,” he heard him mutter.

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” Harry said softly.

Draco swallowed. “But the last two…”

“Are more, aren’t they?” Harry asked, turning back to meet Draco’s eyes.

Draco nodded.

“I want to know,” Harry whispered. “Even if…” His hand made another aborted movement, and Draco reached out to take it.

“Even if?”

“Even if you still hate me after.”

The words took Draco’s breath, then he took Harry’s hand and led him back to the couch they’d been sitting on. “All right. The next…mother wanted me to get married…”


	13. The Princes and the Pea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, there was a prince whose mother wanted him to marry a proper princess, but he had his sights on a different sort of mate.

Prince Draco’s mother was driving him mad. She seemed insistent upon his being married within a year, and while Draco could not fault her for that (he was the heir to the kingdom, after all), there was no way he could ever see himself married to a woman. Even Pansy, the closest female friend he had, simply did not appeal to him in that way. It would be like kissing his aunt Andromeda. Or worse.

This latest one, Daphne something or other, seemed even more brainless than his mother’s usual finds. Even as she answered the questions they asked her, his estimation of her intelligence shrank.

“King Abraxas was the one who freed the Muggles, Highness,” she simpered at him.

Draco huffed. “Wrong. His father did. Grandfather Abraxas was the one who implemented the Muggle restrictions. To keep them from hurting themselves by trying to use magical objects.” He turned to his mother. “I don’t think so, mother.” 

She waved off the girl, who looked disappointed, but left the throne room with a curtsey. Once she was out of sight, Queen Narcissa turned to her son. “You have been putting this off for far too long, Draco. You are nearly twenty.”

“I just turned eighteen, mother!”

“Twenty is just around the corner, I assure you. And if you have not found a bride within that time…who knows what might happen. You cannot keep rejecting every girl you see, Draco. There must be someone out there who would appeal to you?”

Of course, there was, but Draco knew quite well that his mother would be even more horrified by his choice of spouse than she was by the fact that he seemed to have no interest in the girls she’d chosen for him.

“Just…give me time, mother?”

She sighed. “Very well. But don’t expect me to wait too long, Draco. This cannot go on forever.”

The problem was, Draco thought to himself as he walked in the garden later, this did seem as though it might drag on at least that long. He simply could see no way around his difficulties. He refused to marry a girl, and his mother would never agree to his marrying a man. It was a perplexing conundrum.

The solution came to him in the form of a six-foot, two-inch young man with long black hair and golden eyes and skin. This vision’s name was Blaise, and he was Draco’s personal guard. Upon seeing his prince’s dejected countenance, he moved to walk next to him. “Another?” he asked him as they passed the serpent-headed fountain at the centre of the garden.

Draco nodded. “Worse than the last.”

“Is that possible?” The last had accidentally fallen down the stairs leading up to the throne room, and had needed to stay on an extra week to watch for head injuries.

“I’m afraid so. Even if I were the sort, the girls mother continues to find…” Draco sighed. “I don’t know what to do, Blaise. I can’t tell her why. She’d go apoplectic. And I can’t…function with a girl.” Just the thought had him feeling a bit ill.

“And if I could help you find someone who would please her, and give the kingdom the connections it needs, and also fit your requirements?” Blaise asked him.

“That’s impossible! Who would possibly fit both mother’s wishes and my needs? No man in his right mind would pretend to be a woman for the rest of his life!”

“No. Probably not. But he might be willing for a day or two. As long as it might take your mother to accept ‘her’ for your bride, and once you have her acceptance, there’s nothing she can do, is there?”

Draco’s eyes widened. How had he not managed to think of that? As soon as she gave her blessing, everything would be out of her hands. He would become king upon marriage, and while she might be disgruntled about it, she would hardly have the power to do anything about it. “Blaise! You’re brilliant! But…even so…where do we find someone who would be willing, even for a few days, to pretend to be a woman?”

“You leave that to me. I have only one request.”

While this was hardly unexpected, Draco became more cautious at the statement. “And that would be?”

“Lady Pansy. Speak to her for me?”

“Pansy? My Pansy?” Draco was stunned. The two were rarely even in the same room together. If they hadn’t both been in his immediate household, he’d have assumed the two did not even know each other.

Blaise laughed. “I suppose she is. As I am yours, highness. I would…like your blessing to court her. Unless…she is spoken for?”

Beaming at his friend, Draco shook his head. “No. I will put in the best of words for you, Blaise. Particularly if you can manage this miracle for me.”

With a beaming smile, Blaise bowed to his prince. “Then I should set out immediately, if I am to marry her any time soon,” he said with a smile. 

“Indeed. I am hardly going to give you the hand of my closest friend if you can’t bring me a ‘bride.’ In fact, I might well marry you to the next girl my mother dares to shove at me just to get her out of my hair.”

“A deadly threat, indeed.” Blaise bowed to his prince. “I will see you soon, Prince Draco. A proper ‘bride’ for you in hand.” And with that, he was gone.

For a few days, Draco’s heart was lighter. However, when a week had passed, then two, his mother began to harp once more on his marriage. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the next contender to be his bride appeared.

Still, Draco lived up to his end of his deal with Blaise. He and Pansy spent a great deal of time together—both to throw off the queen, and also so that he could fill her head with thoughts of Blaise. He was especially pleased that his attempts did seem to be well-received, and the two spent many hours walking the gardens, and later, as the stormy season began, over a chess table talking about the other young man.

Finally, nearly a month after Blaise had left on his quest, he returned late one morning after a particularly stormy night, a bedraggled and wet girl in tow.

Draco had been playing chess with Pansy at the time, trying to convince her of Blaise’s good qualities.

“What do you mean he’s asked after me? Have I done something wrong?”

“Not like that, Pansy. Just…he finds you interesting, that’s all,” Draco said, pushing forward his rook to check her king.

She captured the rook with her knight before turning back to the conversation at hand. “Blaise Zabini, your personal guard, finds me…interesting? Interesting like…a bug under a glass, or…?”

Were all girls really this dense? “He asked me for your hand,” he told her with a slight smirk, waiting for what he was sure would be a fantastic explosion, no matter what form it took.

Pansy managed to keep her head, but only barely. As it was, her voice was a bit high and strained. “My hand? Why would he… He’s never said more than ten words to me the entire time he’s been your personal guard. Why now?”

Draco smiled. “Because he finally had something to offer in return to get my help.”

She blinked for a moment. “And that would be?” she finally asked.

However, before Draco could respond, a great clattering sound came from the courtyard. “What in the world is that din?” He stood and moved to the window and gazed out to see what had happened. What he saw made his heart leap in his chest. “He’s back.”

“Who?” Pansy stood and moved to Draco’s side. “Oh. Blaise. But…who is that girl with him? I thought you said…”

“Not now, Pansy!” Draco spun away from the window, then moved out into the hall, hurrying down the steps to the courtyard where Blaise waited with his prospective ‘bride.’ He hurried down the first turn of steps, then slowed, trying to regain his dignity. After all, this might not work out in his favor, and he needed to keep in control as long as he could.

The courtyard was filled with gawkers, everyone trying to get a glimpse of the girl that had arrived, her horse riding behind Blaise’s stallion. Draco ignored the whispers and approached his friend, chin high. “Blaise. You’ve returned.” Not even looking at the ‘girl,’ he said, “And who is this?”

Blaise’s lips twitched for a second, then he bowed low. “Highness. I have brought you a princess to become your bride.”

Draco turned finally toward the ‘girl.’ Her hair was long and rather bedraggled, her clothing covered by a thick woolen cloak. But at the moment he looked at her, she glanced up, and suddenly he found he could do nothing but stare into a pair of the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen in his life. Mentally shaking himself when he realized he'd been staring, he turned back to Blaise. “A princess? And does this princess have a name?”

Before Blaise could answer, Queen Narcissa had appeared as well. “Yes, Blaise. Who is this girl you have brought to tempt my son?” The words put Draco on edge, but he did his best to keep calm, glancing towards the girl Blaise had brought him to distract himself. 

Blaise took the girl’s elbow, leading her forward to stand in front of the two royals. “Majesty, Highness… It is my pleasure to introduce you to Princess Harriet…of Gryffindor.”

Gryffindor? Draco looked at his guard, horrified. Was Blaise out of his mind? He could hardly ask the words out loud, though, for fear his mother would take the words themselves as rejection of the girl. Still, it was unthinkable to suggest that a Gryffindor could marry one of the Royal family of Slytherin. The two states had been on the verge of war for centuries.

Queen Narcissa seemed barely able to bite her tongue, but when Draco managed to hold his own, she nodded, then turned to the girl. “And you do not object to marrying one of the Slytherin Royal Family?”

‘Harriet’ cleared her throat, then decided against speaking and shook her head.

Queen Narcissa glanced from Blaise to Harriet, then nodded. “Very well. Let her get cleaned up, then Draco and I will meet her in the audience hall.”

“I’ll escort them, mother,” Draco said, before Narcissa could drag him off to fill his ears with reasons why he could never marry this girl.

Narcissa looked as though she wanted to object, but was scared to discourage the only interest her son had shown in any girl. “Very well, then. I will see you both shortly.”

Draco nodded, then relaxed infinitesimally as his mother swept away. He knew this was going to be difficult. It would have been even before they’d found where Harriet was from. But now? Narcissa would do everything in her power to prevent this marriage, he knew. How could Blaise handicap them this way?

As the three of them walked back up the steps toward the guest quarters, he leaned close to his friend and hissed, “What on earth were you thinking?”

Blaise shot him a secretive smile. “Trust me.”

It was easier said than done, but those eyes had caught Draco, so he would simply have to wait and see. He nodded, then moved to offer his arm to Harriet. “So…What do you think of Slytherin, Princess Harriet?” he asked.

A soft, mellow voice, but one that could never possibly pass as female, answered him. “I’m shocked not to see Muggles hanging from the trees for the least infractions.”

Oh, this was a bad foot to start off on. “And yet you’re here. Something must have convinced you to do so?”

Harriet grunted. “Two older brothers. At least this way I have a hope of having some sort of effect on the world at large.” She shot Draco a look, and those green eyes caught Draco once more. “Unless you don’t intend to share power with the one you marry?”

Though Draco had never given the idea any thought at all, having assumed he would never be able to find someone to marry, he answered almost without thought. “Of course they will share the ruling of this country with me. What use is a spouse who only sits there and looks pretty?”

Harriet stumbled on the step at that, and Draco thought he saw a blush spread across her cheeks. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. Let’s…just…get me changed, please?” she asked.

Draco smiled. “Of course.”

Once in ‘Harriet’s’ room, Draco sent Blaise off to get Pansy so that they could talk. When Blaise had left he turned back to ‘her.’ “Is that really your hair?”

“God, no. It’s a wig.” He pulled it off, and Draco smiled and stepped closer. 

“Good. I’m glad. It hid those gorgeous eyes of yours.”

“Yeah?” The young man who’d been hidden by the wig raised an eyebrow. “Tell me. Do you always come off this snotty, or come on this strong?”

“Excuse me?” How dare this idiot insult him so? “Do you know who it is you’re speaking to?”

“Yeah. The spoiled heir to the Slytherin Kingdom,” he snorted in response.

“Empire. Our lands far outstrip the miniscule lands your family rules,” Draco said, his chin going up.

“That right? So…why is it that more people are willing to deal with us than with you? Or that your Muggles are constantly crossing the border between our two nations to escape you?”

“What?” Draco’d never heard that. “That is ridiculous. Our people love us.”

“Right. Like a canker sore.”

“Now you look here, ‘Harriet…’”

“Harry.”

Draco blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Your mother isn’t here, and I’d really rather you didn’t use that horrible name, thank you.”

“And ‘Harry’ is better?” Draco asked, barely managing to stifle a laugh.

Green eyes caught Draco’s once more. “Well, it is my name.”

For some reason, Draco felt a flush spread across his face. “Right. Harry.”

“Thank you. Look, we don’t know each other, and I’m sorry if I’m being a bit snippy. It’s been a long week.”

Draco stepped forward. “Of course, Harry.” A thrill went up his back at the name, and even more so when he set his hand on Harry’s back. “I apologize. It was probably a long ride. Should I send for some refreshments while you change?”

Harry blinked at him for a moment before answering. “Uh…sure. So…Blaise said that this shouldn’t take too long?”

“I don’t think so. The girls rarely stayed more than a day. So hopefully by tomorrow…” He’d be tasting those lips. They were certainly quite full. “You…do like other men, right?”

Harry nodded cautiously. 

“And…what do you think of me?”

“You’re okay,” he shrugged.

Scowling, Draco was about to let the other man learn of his displeasure, but then the door opened, and Blaise and Pansy appeared, a dark green dress draped over her arms. “So, where is your bride-to-be, Draco?” she asked.

Draco shot a look at Blaise. He hadn’t told her, apparently. Checking to see the door was closed, he smirked. “Pansy, I would like to introduce you to Prince Harry of Gryffindor. Or…” he said with a widening grin, “Princess Harriet for the next day or so.”

The dress Pansy had been carrying fell to the floor in a soft flump of velvet. “Prince…Oh, Draco…what have you done? What are you thinking? Your mother won’t be fooled for long!”

“She will if everyone holds up their part, Pansy. Now, are you going to help us, or…?” He let the threat dangle, knowing anything she could think of would be far more devastating than anything he might suggest.

She sighed. “Fine. But this…isn’t going to fit him. It’s made for a woman!”

“You can’t alter it?” Draco asked, his voice a touch away from plaintive.

She glanced between the three men, then glowered at Draco. “The things I do for you. It will take me a bit. And we’ll need to do his hair…that…wig…” She glanced at the bedraggled mop in Harry’s hands. “It just won’t do. But we’ll figure something out,” she said to calm Draco before he could begin to panic. “And we’ll have to do his face, as well. No woman attempting to become the queen would go without cosmetics. But that’s easily dealt with.” She moved to the sofa near the fireplace, then waved Harry over, and began to hold the dress against him, sighing at just how much she was going to have to change.

When the two princes—or rather, prince and princess—emerged from “Harriet’s” room once more, the Gryffindor princess looked far more suitable to be the betrothed of the only heir of Slytherin. Her hair had been pulled artfully back from her face, done in braids that wrapped from front to back, then wound into a bun at the back of her head, and set off with sparkling pins that matched some of the trim on her bodice. Her lips were even more lush and full than before, with a soft pink color that made Draco want to smear them with his own lips. Her long, full lashes had been complimented with a soft green-grey shadow that gave her eyes a smoky look and set off their green color even more. Around her throat she wore a simple velvet ribbon that easily hid the Adam's Apple that would have given everything away. And the long velvet dress gave her soft curves that Draco knew for a fact she did not possess. Pansy was a genius. 

Now they just had to fool his mother. Which, unfortunately, was easier said than done.

“The audience hall is this way,” Draco told her. It was easier thinking of him like that for now. At least until they obtained his mother’s permission. If she should deny Draco this, he wasn’t sure what he would do, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening.

Harriet nodded, taking his arm, then let him lead the way down the hall, Blaise and Pansy following them a few steps behind.

Narcissa was waiting for them, seated upon her throne, her closest advisor, Minister Snape, at her shoulder. He shot a look at Harriet, then whispered to the queen, and her eyes narrowed.

Draco felt Harriet still beside him, and shifted his hand, pulling her gently with him. “It’s all right. He’s not as bad as he seems. Really.”

“That’s not it,” Harriet whispered back. “I…think I recognize him.”

Oh, that was not good. If Severus Snape knew there was no Princess Harriet… Still, they would just have to brave it out. Draco knew he’d only get one chance at this. If his mother found out before…

He led Harriet to the spot in front of the throne, then nodded slightly. “Mother.”

Narcissa gave Harriet a long look, then nodded as well. “At least she cleans up well.”

Draco bristled, but said nothing. Too soon. He couldn’t risk his only chance.

Snape whispered in his mother’s ear again, and she smiled. “So, tell me, girl. How do you feel about marrying into the Slytherin Royal line?”

Harriet shifted, then looked up to meet the queen’s eyes and replied in a soft, sweet voice she’d obviously been practicing on the road with Blaise. “It is possibly my best chance for marriage, Highness. Any other marriage would probably see me marrying a much less…worthy candidate.”

Narcissa seemed impressed with the answer. “Oh? So…you have no objection to marrying the foes of your family?”

“I do not see it that way, Majesty. I see it as a chance to reconcile our families. After all, they were once quite friendly, were they not?”

That statement astonished Draco. It touched on a particular interest of his own, and that Harriet might be interested in the same story seemed almost too much of a coincidence. “Were they?” he asked her.

Those stunning green eyes met his once more, and she smiled. “Are you telling me you didn’t know Kings Salazar and Godric were once the best of friends before they had their falling out?”

Draco felt his breath speed up at that. Someone else who suspected the true story behind the feud between their two kingdoms? It was too good to be true. “I…did. I simply didn’t realize any Gryffindor would ever admit to it.”

Narcissa cleared her throat, and the two looked back at her once more, both chastised. “So…a…joint interest, Draco?”

He felt his cheeks warm, but nodded. “You know my interest in our history, mother.”

“Indeed.” She glanced back at Harriet. “Very well. And how many heirs do you intend to bear my son?”

Oh, dear. All Draco could hope was that Blaise and Harriet had prepared an answer for this.

“I hope, your highness, that we will manage two. After all, every child should have a sibling, don’t you agree?”

If Draco had been able, he would have gaped. He covered his astonishment at that as best he could.

Narcissa seemed to be caught off guard. “That does seem a good number. Draco himself could have done with another sibling or two. But I…never managed.” She sighed, and for the first time since this quest to marry him off had started, Draco wanted to comfort her. His father had always been a busy man, and he knew his mother had always wished for a daughter, but the few pregnancies she’d had after Draco had never made it to term.

It was only a moment before Narcissa turned back to look at her son. “So…this is who you wish to marry, Draco?”

He nodded. “Yes, mother. She is…suitable. And intelligent.” And male, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud.

Narcissa sighed. “Very well. There is one last test I would like to do, and if she passes…”

Another test? What was this? “What do you mean, mother?”

“Well, any country bumpkin can come here and pretend to be a princess, Draco. Surely you know that I have to test to be certain she is, indeed, of royal blood?” Behind his mother’s shoulder, Snape was smirking, and Draco felt his heart sink into his stomach.

“Yes, mother. So…what…?”

“Tomorrow. We will have supper, and then retire, and in the morning, we will see.”

Draco nodded, glancing at Harriet. All he could do was hope that the next morning, he would be happily betrothed—to Prince Harry of Gryffindor.

After supper, Draco was separated from his prospective bride by Minister Snape and his mother. Narcissa took Harriet’s arm and led her off to her rooms, talking to her so quietly that Draco couldn’t hear a word. All he could do was hope that Harriet would manage to answer her well.

“You are a foolish boy,” Snape was telling him now that the women were gone.

“And what makes you say that, Snape?”

“Marrying a Gryffindor?”

“It is not as though it has not been tried before,” he said, turning to glare at him. “Great aunt Alabaster nearly married one.”

“Until your Grandfather decided he disagreed with her prospective husband and they dueled. I’m certain you know how that turned out?”

It was a rhetorical question. Everyone in their kingdom remembered how his grandfather had killed the Gryffindor prince, leading to years of fighting between the two kingdoms and far too many losses. “Yes. But this is different.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed. At least your great aunt didn’t wish to marry a woman…”

Draco tried not to let his reaction to that show. “And why would she do that?” He knew his tone was a touch too sharp, but he couldn’t prevent it.

“I am not speaking of her, you idiotic boy! I am speaking of you. You think you are so clever and so secretive. Do you not know how open your little secret is? Half the kingdom knows your predilection for men.”

Draco wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or not. As of yet, he hadn’t touched on Harriet’s true identity. “What exactly are you implying, Severus?” He used the man’s first name pointedly, hoping it would quiet him.

Snape wasn’t easily dissuaded, unfortunately. “If you think I will allow you to do to this girl what your father did to your mother, Prince Draco… We cannot afford another war between our two countries. Ours has barely recovered from the last.”

Draco managed not to let his relief show at that. Snape didn’t know. The relief gave him courage. “I assure you, Snape, if I marry Princess Harriet, that will not happen. I have fought too hard to find an appropriate bride. I would not be so stupid to throw everything away.” And then, before Snape could continue to berate him, he turned away and made his way to his own rooms.

Draco waited until nearly midnight before sneaking out to see ‘her.’ All he could do now was hope that his mother hadn’t said something to scare Harry off. The longer he knew him, the more fascinating he found him. And he found himself hoping he would get to know him a great deal better.

The guards his mother had obviously stationed at the princess’s door were easily enough distracted with a spell, and soon he was closing the door to her bedroom. “Harry?”

Where the guest bed usually sat was a tower of mattresses. After a moment, a face peered out over the edge. “Draco?”

“What on earth is this? Is this how you usually sleep?” Draco asked, trying not to laugh.

“God, no. Your mother insisted. Said I would have to be comfortable for my first night here. Particularly if I was to become her daughter-in-law.” He made a face at that. “Hold on. I’ll come down.” 

“No, that’s all right. I’ll be right up,” Draco said with a smile, then cast a quick levitation charm on himself to make himself float, then used the edges of the mattresses to pull himself up to the top. He didn’t think to wonder what his mother was up to. He was more intent on seeing more of those green eyes and full lips again. Finally, he pulled himself over the edge of the bed, then settled next to Harry.

“She wasn’t too bad, was she?” he asked softly. He desperately wanted to reach out and touch, but he held himself back for now. After all, Harry hadn’t seemed too interested before.

“No.” Harry paused, examining Draco’s face for a moment before speaking. “I didn’t realize anyone else knew about Salazar and Godric.”

Draco smiled. “Oh, that one’s of particular interest to me, of course. Given my predilection. But then, I suppose the same is true for you, isn’t it? It’s almost like we’re them, reincarnated. To heal the rift.” Okay, perhaps it was a bit over the top, but there had never been anyone else who he could share his speculation with about the two kings, and now, here was Harry, who obviously believed the same of them. And who was here to marry him.

“Well, I don’t know about that…but…if it is…” Harry reached out to stroke over Draco’s cheek. “I don’t think I’d mind,” he whispered.

Draco grinned, then shifted closer. He knew they shouldn’t, and yet, all he wanted was to taste those lips. Surely that couldn’t be such a bad thing? Apparently, Harry agreed, for those soft lips pressed against his, and the two of them pressed against each other as hands began to roam.

Obviously, Blaise was going to have to be repaid with a Baronetcy. Perhaps even a Duchy, Draco thought to himself as he tangled with Harry on the soft, wide bed, their fingers and limbs entangling.

Neither slept all night.

Draco snuck out in the wee hours of the morning and returned to his room for a long bath, quite relaxed.

When he made his way down to the dining hall, refreshed and well-dressed, his mother was waiting at the head of the table. “Draco. And where is your bride-to-be?”

“I don’t know. I assumed she would be here with you, mother.” Had Harry fallen asleep after he’d left, and not woken? “I’ll send Blaise to collect her, shall I?”

“No need, highness. Here she comes now,” Blaise said, moving closer to his side. When Draco looked towards the door, he was horrified. Harriet looked as though she had literally tumbled from the bed and come straight to the hall. Draco's eyes widened. What had he done? Had he ruined any chance to marry someone he was actually compatible with? 

“Sorry,” Harriet yawned as she entered the room. “I overslept.”

Narcissa took in her appearance with a restrained sneer. “Slept well, did you?”

Harriet flushed, then dropped a small curtsey. “Actually, no. I…didn’t get to sleep until well after dawn, your highness.”

At that, Narcissa’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed? I…apologize. I had hoped the mattresses…”

“Yes, well…I have to admit, the bed was very soft. And yet…” Harriet blushed again. “Something kept…poking me.”

Draco had to bite his lip at that, and it took all his willpower to keep the blush from spreading too far across his face.

The queen looked stunned. “Under twenty down mattresses? Well…I would say…that definitely proves you are of royal blood, if a pea so deeply buried can disrupt your sleep so.” She stood and moved to stand in front of them.

Draco blinked at her. “You mean…?”

“That was the test, Draco. It seems you have yourself a bride.”

All the air went out of Draco at her words. He couldn’t believe it. He could barely breathe.

But apparently Harry could. “Good. Does that mean I can take this off, now, Draco?” he asked in his normal voice, pulling off his wig.

Queen Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done?” she asked in a growl.

“Too late, mother. You agreed. Formally. In front of witnesses. Harry and I will marry come the midsummer holiday, and he and I will take over the kingdom.”

“And children?” she asked him shrilly. “How do you intend to have heirs with another man?”

“It will be dealt with, mother. And none of your concern.” His arm went around Harry’s waist and led him to his chair. “Sorry I kept you awake so late, love. But it seems to have worked in our favor, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm…” Harry nodded, then dug into his food, completely oblivious to the glares the queen mother was sending their way now.

As for Draco, the glares bounced off his happy bubble. He had everything he needed, and come the summer, he and Harry would become the new kings of Slytherin, and ring in a new golden age for their kingdom. Everything was perfect.

 _Fin_.


	14. Draco's Dreams Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With only one more tale to go, Draco wonders if he can even get the words out any more. But Harry insists.

Harry was staring at him when he finished. “We…you…I mean…we…?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“You…wanted…me?”

Draco made to stand, but Harry tugged at his hand. “What?” Draco asked, his tone sharp now. 

“Did you like it, Draco?”

Draco blinked at him. “What kind of question is that? It’s sex, Potter. I’m sure you understand the point of sex?”

Harry flushed. “Yeah, but…most don’t sleep with…I mean…we’re guys.”

“Brilliant observation. It took you this long to get to that point, Potter?” Draco asked him with a scowl.

“No…I just meant…”

Draco pulled his hand away. He didn’t get up, though.

“Draco…are you…”

“What?” His defenses were high, now, and quite certain he wasn’t going to like Potter’s next question.

“Do you…like guys?”

Turning back, Draco looked at Harry for a moment. “And what do you think, Potter?”

“Well…the dreams…but…they’re just dreams…I thought…”

“Well, whatever you thought, it was obviously wrong.”

“So…then…if I were to…”

“To what? Tell Weasley? Granger?”

Harry shook his head. But he didn’t look angry. Draco wished he did. That hurt, hopeful look went straight through him. “No.” This time, he didn’t fight his hand as it rose to stroke Draco’s cheek.

“Potter…what?”

“I…I don’t know, Draco. Just…makes me wonder.”

”Wonder what?” Draco asked, his breath coming faster now. But he couldn’t find it in himself to pull away.

Harry didn’t answer, and Draco still didn’t pull away as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Draco’s. It wasn’t a long kiss. Or even much of anything, really. Just a brush of lips, then they were gone, and Harry was on his feet. “Sorry. I…”

“Why? Because you didn’t like it?” Draco asked.

Harry turned back, his eyes wide. “You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what, Potter? You hardly gave me a chance to do anything.”

“You mean…but…you hate me.”

“Guess not enough to not want that.” Draco stood as well, leaning in and hesitantly pressed another kiss to Harry’s lips, gasping as Harry returned the kiss, his fingers rising to twine in that black hair he’d always wanted to touch, but had made fun of instead to convince himself he hadn’t.

The kiss stretched out until one of them moaned. Draco wasn’t sure which of them it was, but it woke him from the dream-like state, and he pulled back to look at Harry. “Harry?”

Harry looked a bit dazed, but he was smiling. “Wow…” His hand came up to stroke Draco’s cheek again.

“Well…that’s a good sign,” Draco said with a smile.

Harry nodded. “There’s one more, right?”

Draco nodded. “Yes. It’s why I came here today.”

“Why?”

Sitting down, Draco folded his hands in his lap, looking down at them. “Because…it left me shaken.” He looked up at Harry, who settled next to him, his arm pulling Draco close.

“Shaken? Why? What happens?”

“I’ll tell you,” Draco whispered. “It starts with my parents wanting me to find a bride…”


	15. The Lost Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, there was a prince who wanted to marry his best friend, the stable master.

Draco had decided that grand balls should be banished. In fact, he would banish them himself, just as soon as he became king. Especially ones where anyone would be forced to find a bride. 

The pressure from his parents to find a bride was increasing. And Draco truly didn’t know what to do about it. They weren’t really in a rush to be grandparents. No, the issue was more complex than that. They wanted him to come into his power in a controlled way. It needed to happen before his twenty-first birthday, when his chance to achieve his power could be lost forever. And since the one he slept with would forever after have a connection to whatever power Draco gained in consequence, they wanted to be assured that the person he was with was well under their control. It would be a true disaster should someone seduce the crown prince and forever after be able to manipulate him because of it.

The problem was Draco wasn’t really interested in marrying. Not any time soon. And the one person he could think of he might be interested in that way was of such a low rank, likely his parents would both die of heart attacks on the spot if he were to suggest it. 

It was a mess.

The two of them had spent over an hour lecturing him about the ball that was to happen that weekend. Who he was to dance with, that he was to dance with no one more than once unless he’d chosen said dance partner for his consort. All of the eligible girls in the kingdom and the neighboring ones—and even a few guys—had been invited to the palace to attend a ball that was supposed to tempt Draco into choosing one of them to rule at his side. But how could he choose one of them when the perfect specimen was right under his nose? It was too bad his rank meant he might as well live halfway around the world, for all the chance Draco had of suggesting him as his consort. 

Still, it didn’t stop him from going to visit him in his stables. And it had been the perfect excuse to get away from his parents. That he needed a bit of fresh air to help him think.

Approaching the sables, Draco smiled to see Harry sitting out in the front of the building, pounding away at the anvil and working on shaping what he assumed was a horse-shoe.

“One of the horses thrown a shoe?” he asked.

Harry looked up with a smile. “Your father’s Luatha decided he had nothing better to do, I’m afraid, highness. You’re looking…”

“Annoyed? And how many times must I tell you, Harry… Call me Draco.” He smiled. “I thought I could use a bit of a ride. Is Egan recovered from his colic, or should I take Fallon today?”

Setting the metal shoe aside, Harry stood and dusted himself off. “Egan should be up to a ride, so long as you don’t run him. I’ll go get him saddled and ready for you.”

Draco couldn’t resist the opportunity. “Perhaps you should come with us. Just in case. I mean, I wouldn’t want to hurt him by pushing him too hard…” 

“Of course, Prin—Draco,” Harry said with a small grin as he corrected himself, and Draco felt himself smile wider in return. “I’ll saddle up one of the other horses as well. Shouldn’t take me too long.” He disappeared into the stables, and Draco settled on the bench Harry had been sitting on with a soft sigh.

There was just something about the other young man. They’d known each other since the other boy had appeared at the doorstep of the kitchen when the two had been quite young. As children, the two had explored all over the kingdom when Harry had been allowed out to play, their adventures growing in scope and excitement until the day Draco’s father had learned of them, and the adventures had been deemed too dangerous for the Crown Prince, and Harry far too common for Draco to be playing with. After that, they had been watched too closely to be allowed to spend much time together, though Draco had still made certain to seek him out as often as he could manage.

Most of Harry’s time as a boy had been spent cleaning the kitchen, or doing deliveries, then he’d become apprenticed to the last stable master, and now…now he was the head of the stables. But even that would not be good enough, Draco knew. Anyone less than a Baron wouldn't do for the Crown Prince, after all. Never mind that he could never care for anyone else the way he cared for Harry.

This reverie was broken when Harry appeared, leading two horses—Draco’s own stallion, Egan, and a docile mare that Harry was allowed to use for his own needs that he had named Lily. “All ready, Hi—Draco. Shall we?”

Draco nodded and stood up, mounting Egan and giving him a soft pat. “Ready to go for a ride, boy? I bet you’ve missed this.” Egan had suffered from colic, and so Harry and his stable hands had been caring for the horse carefully to help him recover. The stallion threw his mane a bit and gave a snort that Draco interpreted as “yes,” and Draco couldn’t help but smile. He had his horse back, and Harry would be riding with them. What could possibly be wrong with the world?

His smile faded as he remembered just why he was upset—the ball.

Once Harry had mounted, the two set off down the main street of the town, and out into the fields. The two of them headed automatically for one of their favorite pastures, then dismounted and let the horses graze for a bit. Draco moved to a large stone the two of them had spent many happy hours “conquering” as boys, and settled upon it.

Harry followed, settling next to him before allowing himself to ask. “Is this something you’d like to talk about, Draco?” Out here, he seemed to feel more ease at talking to Draco as an equal, even though they both knew he was not. Draco was grateful for that, at least.

It took a few moments before Draco could put into words what exactly was wrong, but finally, he looked up at his friend. “Have you had your first?” he asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow then nodded slowly.

Draco felt his cheeks flush a bit. “They’re worried about the connection it will cause,” he said softly. “They want it to be someone who they will be able to keep in the family. They’re scared it would give someone too much control over the kingdom, otherwise.” He met his friend’s eyes. “What was it like?”

“Nothing that special, but then, most of us don’t tend to make too much of a fuss over that sort of thing, really. Doesn’t mean as much to us as it would to you. Most don't even really believe that connection occurs.”

Draco wondered at that. Did it? Maybe he could convince his parents that? But as quickly as the thought came to him, he knew it would never work. It wasn't like he had time to shift their opinion, after all. The ball was tomorrow. So instead, he sighed and nodded. “True.” He glanced over at the horses where they were grazing, unable to meet Harry’s eyes again. “So…what did your power end up being like?”

“Nothing horribly exciting. Animal empathy.”

Draco looked back at him. “Nothing exciting! That sounds…what is it like?” he asked excitedly.

“Boring, like I said. Makes my job a bit easier, I suppose. Otherwise Egan over there would still be having difficulties.”

“But…can you see their thoughts, or through their eyes, or what?”

“Mostly…just feel their emotions. I can always tell when the mares are ready to foal,” he said with a bit of a laugh. “They get so annoyed…”

Draco wrinkled his nose at that. It sounded abominable. He sighed. “I wonder what mine will be…”

“Maybe you’ll be able to fly,” Harry said with a laugh. It was a joke between the two friends. When Draco wasn’t running from place to place, he was gazing up at the sky, watching the birds.

“Right,” Draco snorted. “Like that would happen. Likely I’ll have some boring power that will help me with paperwork.”

“Well, your father’s is pretty significant.”

“Mmm. True. Being able to tell when someone is lying is a very useful skill if one is king, after all. Still boring, though. And mothers…that's almost frivolous.” After all, who wanted to make flowers bloom? Girls, he supposed, but even so, it seemed a silly power to have.

Harry laughed. “Well, not every power can be exciting as mine…”

Draco grinned. “Still, you never know. I am Crown Prince. I do still have to outdo you…” His grin faded quickly, though. “I just wish…”

“What is it, Draco?”

“I hate this. Being forced to marry someone just so I can have my power. Why do I have to marry anyone?” He met Harry’s eyes, and felt his heart beat faster. He’d never told his friend his true feelings for him. After all, it would hardly be fair to Harry to know it. It wasn’t like they could act on it, even if Harry were interested. “I wish you could come to the ball, at least. Then there would be _someone_ I could talk to, even if nothing else…”

“What would someone like me do at a state ball, Draco? I’d stand out a mile.”

“But I could loan you an outfit…”

“Draco…your clothes would never fit me.”

It was true. Harry’s muscular build was quite different from Draco’s slender one. He’d be lucky if he managed even to get an arm through a sleeve.

“So I’ll have something made for you, then. Please, Harry. Please come?”

“And your parents?”

“Well, I’m not allowed to spend much time with anyone. So what would it matter if I spent a few minutes here and there with you?”

Harry watched him for a few minutes, thinking. Draco wished he could read his friend’s mind, so that he knew what the answer was likely to be, and so that he would be able to counter it if he needed. Finally, Harry nodded. “All right. But only if you can find me an outfit. I’m not wearing my leathers to a ball,” he added with a grin.

If Draco hadn’t been able to fully control his impulses, he might have thrown his arms around Harry’s neck to hug him, but as it was, he beamed at him instead. “Thank you. I can’t wait. At least there will be someone there I can talk to that I know just likes me for me.” He smiled, then stood up and brushed himself off. “But we should get back. Mother has the seamstress coming to look over my robes for the ball. It wouldn’t do for me not to be there.”

Harry nodded, and the two rode slowly back to town, both lost in their thoughts.

* * *

The fitting went as Draco had expected. Long, dull, and filled with needle-pricks from the seamstress and lecturing from his mother. “Stand still, Draco, darling. You’ll ruin the line of the robe.” And, “You do understand that we’re only doing this for your good, don’t you, darling?” And even, “Just pick the prettiest. It doesn’t matter who. So long as she will give you beautiful children.”

“Mother! I don’t want some brainless—ow, damn it, Hannah! That hurt.” 

“Then stand still, Draco. The poor girl is simply trying to do her job.” Narcissa stepped forward and fiddled with the collar of his robes. “At least it’s a flattering color.”

“It’s white and gold, mother. How can one go wrong with that? It’s practically not a color at all.”

“But you look so good in white, darling.” She smiled. “Not that anyone would care what you wore, but it is always better to wow. Especially in this sort of situation.”

Draco sighed. “Yes, mother.”

Finally, the girl was done, and she and Draco’s mother left him alone to brood. How was he ever going to manage this with someone else, when Harry had been the only person ever to feature in his daydreams of that sort? His night dreams, too, when it came to that. Draco squirmed, recalling the latest.

Harry had been kissing him, and when he’d pulled away, he’d been wearing a robe that Draco had never seen the like of in a deep red with gold trim. He’d whispered about how he’d waited for Draco to come to him for so long, and that he had no intent to wait any longer. He’d lowered Draco to the ground before a large oak where the two had played when they’d been boys, and then…

And that was where Draco’s dreams always cut off. After all, he had no clue what two people did together in that sort of situation. Let alone two men. He knew it had to be much more complicated, then.

But oh, how he wanted it.

The days before the ball were filled with fittings and lectures and plans, but somehow, Draco found the time to bribe Hannah, who was the Royal family’s personal seamstress, to adjust one of his own robes to fit Harry. Not that he told her it _was_ for Harry, just pointed out someone of Harry’s size for her to estimate from. The robes weren’t finished until the very day of the ball, and Draco had no time to take the robes to his friend in person, so he sent his page to deliver them to Harry, and hoped that they would get to him in time.

The grand ballroom had been decked in flowered garlands strung from the columns and chandeliers, and along the edges of the tables that had been draped in white and gold tablecloths and overburdened with food for the guests. The room itself was already full of horribly giggly girls when Draco arrived with his parents. When he failed to see Harry anywhere, his heart dropped, and he braced himself for a long, boring evening filled with simpering girls and knowing glances. Hopefully he would manage to last through the evening with his sanity intact.

The reception line seemed to take forever, and, of course, each girl as well as a few of the younger men, did their very best to catch his interest. The closest he could come to feeling interested in any of them was when the duke of the lowlands introduced himself. Duke Zabini was a lovely man with dark brown skin and a wicked smile, with twinkling eyes to match, and hair that looked like it would be glorious to wrap his hands in. But he wasn’t Harry. Even as he shook and kissed hands, his eyes scanned the room every so often for his friend, hoping he would appear.

By the time he’d danced with ten young ladies, and three gentlemen (including Zabini, who had been far too grabby for Draco’s taste), and Harry still hadn’t shown, Draco decided he’d earned a break, and grabbed himself a goblet of wine, then made for the gardens, hoping for a bit of privacy.

It was cool outside, and Draco let out a sigh of relief, only to hear the sound echoed somewhere nearby. He was about to move away when he saw who had made the noise—Harry.

“Harry! You made it.” Draco moved to his friend’s side then looked wide-eyed at what he was wearing. “Where did you get that?”

Harry looked up from the bench he was sitting on, an abstracted look on his face. “Draco…” He stood. “This was a bad idea. I should go.”

“No…please. It’s been unbearable. If you don’t want to go inside, just…stay out here with me for a bit?”

Harry met his gaze, then nodded and smiled. “All right.”

Draco settled next to his friend on the bench. “So…where did the outfit come from? It’s…” Well, frankly, it was gorgeous. And it suited Harry’s looks. It was a tabard made of black velvet, and was trimmed in gold with leggings and even boots to match. Harry's outfit was almost a dark version of Draco's. And it suited him at least as well as Draco’s own hand-made robes. “You look…wonderful.” True, Draco had always admired Harry in his leathers, but still…the effect was enough to make him almost forget that Harry couldn’t be the one he chose.

There was a long pause before Harry spoke. “Well, it’s…kind of a weird story, really. This guy and…well, his dog, I suppose…” He looked as though there had been a great deal more to it, but wasn’t quite certain how to put it into words.

Draco snorted. “You’re not sure it was a dog, or you’re not sure it’s _his_ dog?”

“Either. Both, I guess. It’s…odd.”

“Because of your power?” 

“Yeah. It doesn’t quite…feel like a dog. Anyway…the guy…he said…that it was part of my inheritance.”

“Inheritance? But you don’t have…” Draco swallowed the final word. His friend had always been a bit sensitive about his lost parents. No one had ever managed to find out who they might be. One of Draco’s fears was that someday someone would take Harry away, and he would never see his friend again. “What else did he say?”

“Look…It’s…I’m still trying to figure this out. But…I wanted…I mean…I promised you I’d be here. So I came. But…maybe it was a bad idea, Draco.”

“No. It wasn’t. Until I saw you out here…it’s been horrible.”

“You certainly seemed popular,” Harry said softly, a note in his voice that Draco had never heard before.

“What do you mean? Of course I am. They all want to rule at my side. Of course they want me. Doesn’t mean I want them…” He scowled. “Some are…especially persistent. Believe me, if I didn’t have to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

The words seemed to have a cheering effect on Harry, and he smiled. “What? You actually want to miss out on having all the attention on you? Don’t tell me…the world has come to an end?”

Draco snorted and shoved at him. “Not funny. You see how you like it when someone is trying to force _you_ to marry,” he said with a scowl. “It’s bloody awful. I’m ready to strangle the lot of them.”

“I don’t know. You seemed to be getting on with the dark fellow,” Harry said.

Just how long had Harry been watching? “Zabini? Are you kidding? I think he’s an octopus in disguise,” Draco huffed. “He seemed to have no understanding of the fact that I might not _want_ to be groped by him. Seemed almost offended when I went off to dance with my next partner.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Believe me, he won’t be the one I choose, even if mother and father force the issue.”

Harry muttered something under his breath.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just…it’s not fair that they’re doing this to you. You should be able to take your time. Find someone you want to be with.”

“That’s what I keep telling them, but…” Draco sighed then looked down. “They do have a point. It’s very dangerous if I end up with some odd connection to someone, and…”

“But that’s assuming you wouldn’t choose the person you want to be with, Draco.”

Looking up, Draco met his friend’s eyes then nodded. “True.” Too bad he couldn’t just ask Harry and have done with it. But things between them were already strained and awkward from their difference in status. He didn’t want to hurt Harry for some whim of his own. “Still, maybe I’ll get lucky and find the person meant for me at one of these balls.” Unlikely to happen, but he had to let himself hope, didn’t he?

He looked away from Harry and back toward the lighted windows then sighed. “I should probably get back, before father sends the guards to search for me. I don’t suppose you’ll come in?”

“I don’t think so, Draco,” Harry said, rising to his feet.

Draco followed suit. “At least say you’ll come again tomorrow, to give me a bit of relief from those fools inside?”

Smiling, Harry nodded. “Yes. All right. I’ll be out here when you’re ready for a bit of escape.” He sobered. “Good luck, Draco.”

Draco wasn’t sure if his friend was wishing him luck in finding someone, or in surviving the ball entirely. “Thank you. I’ll need it.” He smiled, then turned and headed back inside.

The rest of the ball dragged by, and at the end, Draco waved off his parents, assuring him he was giving the matter due consideration, then headed off to bed. 

The conversation he’d had with Harry the night before wore on Draco the next day, so he escaped the final fitting for his next set of robes, and made his way down to the stables to see Harry once more.

But Harry wasn’t alone. There was a rather raggedy man standing in the door of the stables talking softly to Harry, and Harry was shaking his head.

“Harry?”

Harry looked up, startled. “Prince Draco! Um…hold on. Let me get Egan saddled for you.” He smiled distractedly then disappeared into the stable.

Draco stood there awkwardly, not sure if he should greet the man. He was rather wary of strangers, especially ones as ragged as this one.

The man seemed content to watch Draco quietly, though his golden-brown eyes followed Draco as he moved to settle on the bench—then jumped back when he heard a growl from near his feet. A great black dog lay in front of the bench, and raised its head to bare its teeth at him.

“Dear god! Is that beast yours?” he asked the ragged man.

The man laughed. “Padfoot? Oh, he’s harmless. He knows if he’s not, he’ll get snipped, so he sticks to the growling.”

The dog turned his great grey eyes on the man and muttered something, then set his head back on his paws, closing his eyes once more.

Still, when Harry returned with Egan, Draco was quite pleased to escape the strange man and his dog, his wish to talk with his friend long forgotten in the need to get away.

Draco took a long ride. After his encounter, he needed it. What he didn’t need was to run into another stranger. An even mover bizarre stranger than the one at the royal stables. 

“Hai’llow!” he heard someone call, and turned to see a girl with short bright pink hair and wearing breeches.

“Excuse me?” he asked incredulously.

“I said hai’llow. It’s easier than saying all those syllables, don’t you know?” she said with a grin as she approached. “Are you from the town?”

Draco snorted. “No. I’m from the palace.”

Her eyes widened. “Ooooh, you’re that prince-fellow, aren’t you?” she asked with a grin. “So then you know our Harry?”

“Your...” Draco huffed, hating to be so wrong-footed by such an odd person. “And just _who_ are you?”

“Oh, right!” She stuck out her hand to be shaken as though she were a man. “Tonks. At your service, sire. Or…is it majesty?”

Draco huffed again, ignoring her hand. “Highness will do.” Egan huffed as Draco’s hands tightened on the reins, and he forced himself to loosen his grip. “Now…what is it that you wanted?”

“Ah, right…” She lowered her hand. “Um…the stables? Whereabouts are they?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “On the palace grounds, of course. I’m certain any of the palace guards can point the way,” he added with a slightly sour smile. Then, before she could ask more questions, he pushed Egan forward and back onto the path and was out of sight before she could utter her wretched greeting again, or make up something for good-bye.

When he returned Egan to the stables later, the strange girl wasn’t there, but neither was Harry or the other stranger. They’d even taken the dog with them. Draco only hoped Harry would remember his promise to visit the ball once more. If he had to deal with the ridiculous fools on his own, he might well be inclined to hex one, no matter what his father might think of the idea.

Returning to his rooms, he took a long bath, then dressed in the second set of robes his mother had prepared for him, and managed to be finished just in time to go down to the ball. If he hadn’t had a chance of seeing Harry there, he’d likely have run for the stables and out into the fields around the town, and away from all the leering looks and simpering maidens. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stand it a third time. 

All he could do was hope something would happen tonight that would cause that to be unnecessary. Not that he had any clue what that could plausibly be. He knew what he hoped for, but that was as unlikely as snow in the summertime.

The ball started in much the same way, with only a slight variation in number of hands to shake or kiss, and a few new leering or simpering faces.

Before an hour was up, he’d had enough dancing, and headed for the gardens once more, hope high in his heart. He waited to call out until he’d closed the doors behind him. “Harry?”

“Over here.” Draco heard Harry’s voice coming from just around the bend in the path, so he moved forward to see him, smiling at first, but then stood agape as he saw the new clothes that Harry was wearing. “Look at you…wow.” Not that Harry had been difficult to look at before, but this outfit was even more flattering than the black one from the night before had been. It matched the green of his eyes almost perfectly, except for the fact that it was a few shades darker.

“I know. It’s too much. I tried to tell them I wasn’t going to go in, but…they insisted,” he shrugged, looking awkwardly embarrassed.

“No! It’s…you look…fantastic.” 

Harry met his friend’s eyes. “Really? I feel so silly, though.”

“Well, you look wonderful,” Draco said, glad it was dark there in the gardens, so that the blush on his face wouldn’t be easily noticed by his friend. “And I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t even get to talk to you today when I came down to the stables.”

“Yeah…sorry about that. Remus and Tonks and I spent a lot of time talking about my folks today.”

“Tonks? That…ridiculous woman with the pink hair?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a smile. “She’s pretty cool, actually. She’s actually able to look like whoever she wants.”

Draco blinked. “And she chooses to look like that?” he asked with a bit of a sneer.

“What? She’s very attractive!” Harry said, scowling. 

Draco scowled, too. “I suppose. If you like that sort…”

“Look, never mind, Draco. I should get back…”

Draco caught his arm before he could move. “No. I’m sorry. She just…rubbed me the wrong way, that’s all. I’m glad you’re at least able to learn about your family.”

Harry went quiet at that. “Yeah.” He swallowed heavily then sat down on a nearby bench. “Look, Draco…about that…” 

Settling next to him, Draco turned to meet his friend’s eyes, trying to ignore the rising feeling of dread at the words. “What about them?”

“Um…they…well; they kind of want me to go with them.”

“Go with them? Go with them where?” Draco asked in what he knew was far too sharp a tone. It was taking everything inside him to keep from shouting for the guards and clapping Harry in chains just to keep him here where he wanted him.

“I…it’s complicated…”

“So uncomplicate it, Harry.” He almost wanted to ask why Harry could ever want to leave him, but knew he could never do that. Harry wouldn’t understand the loss he’d feel if they were separated. To him, they were just friends.

“I…don’t know if I can,” Harry said softly.

“So you’ll just…leave? And I’ll never see you again?” It was difficult for Draco to keep his cool. He felt as though he were about to crumble from the inside out.

“I don’t want that, Draco. You’re my best friend…”

At the word ‘friend,’ Draco felt as though he’d been stabbed, and he had to stand up and look away. “Right. But these…strangers apparently mean more?”

Then Harry was behind him, a hand on his back, and it was all Draco could do not to turn and curl into his embrace. “No. But my parents…”

This time, Draco did turn. “Are dead! What can going back to an empty home do to bring them back? I need you here!” The words had slipped from his mouth before he’d realized what he’d said, and he closed his lips in a thin line and looked down, not sure what to say now.

“Draco?” There was a note to the question that Draco’d never heard from Harry before.

“Never mind. Leave. What do I care?”

“And if I don’t want to?”

Draco looked up to meet those leaf-green eyes that had featured in so many of his dreams. “Then what _do_ you want, Harry?”

For a long moment, it seemed as though even Harry didn’t know. Then he let his hand slide up Draco’s spine, sending a thrill through him, his fingers settling at the base of Draco’s skull, and pulled him forward. Draco gasped as their lips met, and Harry pressed his tongue between the parted lips.

Draco had dreamed of this moment for so long, it took a bit of time before he realized that this wasn’t necessarily going to end the way his dreams always had. He pulled back and looked at Harry. “What… Wait… You can’t… Harry…”

Harry’s hands slid away, and he looked down. “I’m sorry. I thought…”

“No! It’s not that. Harry…do you know how long I’ve wanted that?”

Those green eyes met his once more, and Draco allowed himself to believe that what he saw in them was hope. “Really? Me? But…”

“Who else would I ever trust that way, Harry? No one. Just you.”

Some of the hope went out of Harry’s eyes. “Oh. That’s…why you asked me about firsts, wasn’t it? You want me to…?”

Draco was sure, even despite the dark, the flush on his cheeks was quite visible now. “Yes…but not just,” he assured him quickly before Harry could pull away entirely. “Harry…There’s never been anyone else I could even think of that way. I just…didn’t want to hurt you. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” He sighed, his tone bitter when he spoke again. “Father would never allow me to make you my consort.”

“Consort? You want me to be...?” Harry licked his lips. “I thought you didn’t want to get married?”

“It’s…not the marriage that I object to, Harry. It’s that it couldn’t be who I wanted.”

“You want…me.” Harry looked stunned.

It would have been funny to see the expression on his face if it hadn’t been so serious. “Who could I trust the way I trust you, Harry?” Draco put his hand on Harry’s arm, wanting to keep that contact now that he’d had a taste.

“Even though your father would hate it?”

“My only problem is that he’d never allow it. If it was just that it would upset him…yes. You are the one I would ask for. No matter what he said.”

Harry’s eyes were narrowing now. “What if I said I might be able to convince him?”

Did this have to do with what those strangers were filling his head with? “Harry…” 

Harry covered Draco’s lips with a finger before he could continue. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, of course! But…”

“No buts. I…have to go. But…I’ll come up to your room. Tonight. If you’re really serious?”

“God, yes! But…what do I tell them? I mean…they will ask who when I say I’ve chosen.”

“Don’t tell them. If they ask for a decision tonight, say you might have a possibility, but that you need to think about it, and that you need that extra ball tomorrow to be certain. Okay?”

Draco nodded. It wasn’t even lying, if he really thought about it. But the idea that Harry would be his first, as he’d always dreamed…even better, that he might be allowed more… “Harry?”

Instead of answering, Harry pulled him close and kissed him again, and Draco could taste the hunger building between them. “Tonight,” Harry said when he pulled away. “I’ll see you then.” And then he was gone.

Draco had to take several minutes to regain what little of his dignity he could manage to scrabble together before going back inside. And then, once inside, he was barely able to restrain himself from telling his parents that he was done and wanted to go to bed. After all, they’d hardly accept his answer if they hadn’t seen him even dancing with anyone since coming back in.

As it was, he was only able to force himself to dance with a small handful of partners before he made his way to where his parents were sitting on their dais, watching the dancers.

“I think I’ll turn in. It’s been a long day.”

King Lucius raised an eyebrow at him. “Indeed? You think two hours of dancing and then leaving without a choice will get you any closer to finding a consort, Draco?”

“Actually,” Draco said with a smile, “there are a few that seem good possibilities. But…I need to think things through. I do hope that is allowed? We aren’t in such a rush that I can’t even give the matter thought?”

Narcissa beamed at him. “You have favorites? Which?” She glanced around the hall as though the hopefuls might glow so that she could pick them out to speak to them.

“Well…they are nice enough. But…I’d rather not say. Just in case. I wouldn’t want to end up with resentful subjects later, after all. Tomorrow. We’ve already planned for a ball then, anyway. I promise that by the end of tomorrow night, I will have a choice for you both.”

Even without a vocal response or change in expression, Draco knew that his father was scanning his words for a lie, and couldn’t help but feel relieved that not a single word had been untrue. Just a stretching of the truth. He didn’t honestly know how Harry could manage to get Lucius’s approval, but he was certainly willing to let him try.

Finally, Lucius nodded. “Very well, Draco. But remember—the future of our kingdom rests on your decision. Be very certain you choose not only what is best for you, but also what is best for them.”

Draco nodded then waited for the dismissal so he could go back to his rooms. Lucius seemed to know that he was up to something, as even with Draco’s assurances, he stretched out his permission, leaving his son standing uncomfortably in front of him for several minutes before he finally nodded. “We will see you tomorrow, then.”

The Prince didn’t run from the room, but it was a near thing, and by the time he’d gotten halfway to his rooms, he’d broken into a bit of a jog anyway. Upon reaching his room, he opened the door quickly, then looked around, hoping to see the familiar mop of black hair and the bright green eyes he loved so well, but sagged when Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, he began to undress, leaving the dirty robes where they could be found and cleaned by the servants, then made his way to the chamber where his bed sat, dressed only in thin cotton breeches.

He stopped abruptly in the doorway of the chamber when he saw Harry sitting on his bed, dressed only in leggings and a loose shirt now, which made Draco wish it were tighter; or better still, completely gone. 

“You’re here.”

Harry smiled. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Draco nodded, but he was beginning to panic. He couldn’t seem to move. Every doubt he had ever had about this came to him all at once. What if Harry didn’t like the way he looked under his clothes? He was far too pale and skinny, not muscular and tan like his friend. And what if he did or said the wrong thing? How would he ever face Harry again?

As if sensing his doubts, Harry stood up and walked to his side, then took his hand. “You do still want this, right?”

“God, yes.” Now, before his father could take it from him. “But…”

Harry’s fingers settled over Draco’s lips. “No buts, Draco. Not tonight. There’s just you, and me.” Then, before Draco could say anything to dispute that, Harry pulled him into another kiss, robbing him of the little breath he’d managed to keep from their last kiss.

“Harry…” Draco managed to breathe when he pulled away.

“Shhh…” Harry smiled. “I want this to be perfect for you.” He tugged Draco gently toward the bed. “So. Tell me.”

At first, Draco blinked, not sure what Harry meant, then, realizing what he was asking for, he took a deep breath, then took both of Harry’s hands in his, looking up to meet his eyes. “Harry, will you be my First?” The words were simple, but formal enough. Right now, he wasn’t too certain he’d be able to manage anything more flowery. And he was quite sure that his patience couldn’t manage to wait more than a few moments longer.

Harry’s response was easily as simple. “I will,” he said with a smile, then pulled Draco gently down onto the bed.

The first few minutes, the two of them exchanged nothing more than kisses and touches through their clothes. But as soon as Harry began to try to undress him, Draco’s inexperience caught up with him, and he began to panic. This was something he’d never even attempted before. Even more than a peck on a hand or cheek was beyond his experiences. 

Harry shifted, pulling Draco into his lap, then began to kiss him again, even as his hands shifted to his back and arse. He knew Harry was trying to calm him, but he doubted anything he would try would really work. “Please…I…”

“What is it, Draco?” Harry asked softly, his hands stopping their roaming to stroke his back calmingly.

“Can’t we just…get on with it? I…nothing’s really going to keep me from being nervous, after all.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Draco…”

“It’s…going to hurt?” He’d heard it hurt for girls with their first times, but he’d always heard that with boys it was simply a matter of getting it over with.

“Well…yeah. I mean…that’s what I’ve been told,” Harry said, looking a bit nervous himself now.

“I thought you said you’d done this before!” Draco exclaimed, pulling back. “You said…you already had your first.”

“Yeah. With a girl. I’ve never done this before with a guy, Draco.”

Well, that was different, wasn’t it? Still…not so bad an idea when he thought about it. “Really? So…in a way it’s your First, too.” Draco couldn’t help but smile at the idea.

Harry smiled, too, pleased that Draco didn’t seem upset any longer. “I guess so. And…I can’t imagine this with any other guy, Draco. Just you.”

“Good. Because as soon as you convince father tomorrow, we’re going to be betrothed, and if you look at another guy, I’ll have to have you convicted of treason for betraying your future king,” he said smugly.

“Oh, really? And then who would you sleep with, dearest prince?”

The words made Draco grin. “Oh…call me that again…”

Harry rolled his eyes then stretched out on top of him. “I have better plans.” And then, before Draco could protest, Harry kissed him again, drawing a moan from them both. Perhaps now Harry actually agreed it was finally time to get on with things?

Draco shifted his legs, spreading them apart so that he could bend them at the knee and grind up against Harry. Apparently this was quite well-received, as Harry groaned, then shifted to reach for something and pushed Draco’s knees up to his chest as he sat back. “It’ll burn and sting a bit, but I’ll try to stretch you as much as possible, okay?” 

Unable to speak, Draco nodded, the fear back once more then tried to relax as Harry began to touch him. The first touches made his skin prickle, and then, there was pressure, and Harry was urging him to relax, to breathe, but how could he? The feeling was simply far too intense, and each time the feeling lessened, there was soon more.

Finally, Harry stretched out beside him, kissing him softly as his fingers moved. Draco’s whimpers soon turned to moans, and then Harry was above him once more. “Say it again,” he whispered roughly to Draco, and after a moment, Draco’s lust-fogged mind remembered the words. “Harry, please…be my First?”

“Yes.” Harry leaned down to kiss him, and then the fingers were gone, and something else took their place. The pressure was intense, and Draco clung to Harry, the pleasant feeling of need he’d had before doused in the pain. He couldn’t help but hope that the feeling that he was about to be torn apart was just part—a very small part—of the First time, and that it would fade. When Harry stilled once more, and the burning had only faded a bit, Draco whimpered. This couldn’t really be It, could it? This was what everyone craved so much?

“Please…” He couldn’t think for the pain, and Harry was the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

Fingers swept across his forehead, and he opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed, looking up into Harry’s worried eyes. “Hurts?” he asked. Draco didn’t bother with words, just nodded. Harry kissed him again, then shifted and took him in hand, pulling a moan from him. 

When he began to move, all Draco could do was hold on and gasp. Particularly when he brushed a spot that made sparks fly behind his eyes, pleasure finally flooding him. He cried out at that, arching up to get more. “Yes…please…”

After that, it was a blur of skin and sweat and hands and kisses until both were sated twice over. Even as sore as he was, Draco curled around Harry with a sated smile. It would be worth it not to be able to dance tomorrow. Especially if Harry could convince his father he was, indeed a worthy candidate to be Draco’s consort. Draco had to believe it. He refused to lose this now that he had it.

* * *

When Draco woke the next morning, it was with a huge grin. However, the moment he rolled to his side to curl around Harry, the smile faded. Harry was gone. Just the impression of where he’d rested showing he’d even been there at all.

Trying not to let the fact that Harry was gone shake him, Draco got up and dressed in his riding outfit, then made his way down to the stables. Perhaps Harry had just needed to deal with a few things early this morning? But even as he walked down to the stables, he knew he wouldn’t find Harry there.

Sure enough, Harry’s main stable-boy, Seamus, shook his head when Draco asked for Harry. “He isn’t here. Haven’t seen him all morning. Nor those new friends of his. I could saddle your Egan, if you liked.”

Draco shook his head. If Harry wasn’t there, there seemed little reason to ride. He turned around and made his way to the gardens, settling by the pool at the centre of the main garden.

With Harry’s disappearance, Draco’s doubts had started up once more. Had Harry regretted it? Had Draco disappointed him somehow? Worse, had King Lucius found out and done something to Harry? 

His thoughts chased him through what felt the longest day of his life, and by the time he made his way down to the ball in his silver-green formal robes, it was difficult to even hold up his head. Had he just given up everything he’d ever wanted to someone who did not want him back? What if Harry never showed? What would he do then?

“Draco? Are you all right, sweetness?” his mother asked when he appeared, brushing some hair from his forehead.

“I simply had trouble sleeping, mother,” he assured her.

Lucius was watching him closely. “Do you have a choice for us, Draco? There is no need to put you through this if you are not up to it, and have made your choice, after all.”

It was difficult to keep his face from cracking as he shook his head no. “No. Not yet. Hopefully…”

”At the end of the ball, yes.” Lucius’s lips thinned. He obviously knew Draco was hiding something, but had no clue as to what.

“There are a few new guests,” Narcissa said with a smile. “Perhaps one of them…?”

“Perhaps, mother,” Draco said, trying for a smile. He let his father lead his mother into the ballroom then followed after, moving to stand beside his mother on the dais as the new guests approached to be introduced. 

At first, this ball seemed to be headed in the same direction as the first two. Simpering smiles from girls whose hands he kissed, and leering grins from the men. The most interesting point had been a pair of red-headed twins who had winked at him in tandem, grabbing his hands and kissing them before making their way back down the stairs. But the man who had followed…that was where everything had changed.

He was a good deal older than the other applicants for his “affections.” Nearly as old as his parents, if he guessed right. And while he was dressed quite well in a formal black robe with what looked like a million buttons, the sour look on his pinched, pale face was enough to make Draco shiver. The nose wasn’t bad, though some might have seen it so. But the hair? Black and greasy, as though he had never washed it in his life.

“And you are?” Draco asked, a bit hesitant to offer his hand to this man.

The man bowed low, folding nearly in half, his long, stringy hair brushing the floor before he stood up once more. “Severus Snape, Highness. Representative to the Prince of Gryffindor. He did not wish to meet you formally this way, but would like to speak to you out in the gardens, if he might?”

Generally, during these introductions, Draco’s parents stayed silent, apparently wanting Draco to make up his own mind about the applicants. But this time, Lucius stepped forward. “Gryffindor?” he asked, looking alarmed—for him, at least. “That is impossible,” he said. “The Gryffindor Royal family died out nearly twenty years ago.”

“Eighteen years, actually,” Snape agreed. “But one family member was smuggled out of the country. And has now been found. And he would like to ally himself with your kingdom, sire. He knows that if he is to restore his kingdom, allies will be vital.”

“And you are his advisor?” Lucius asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I am one of several, yes.”

“And he wishes to see us in the gardens?”

“No. Just your son, sire.”

Draco was astonished by the interplay between the two men. Whatever was going on, he needed to put a stop to it or it might go on all night. “I’ll go. After all, we’re on the grounds of the palace, father. What can he do to me? There are guards everywhere.” 

“Quite a bit,” Lucius growled, turning to his son. “I will give you five minutes. If you have not returned with the prince in that amount of time, I will be coming after you.”

Draco nodded. “Of course, father.” He turned to Snape. “Lead the way.”

Snape lead the way down the stairs, past the last dozen or so hopefuls who had wanted to meet Prince Draco, and to the doors at the far end of the hall that led to the gardens. “He is waiting for you out there,” he said, opening the door for the prince. “I will do my best to give you as much time to become—acquainted—as you can before your father interrupts,” he said.

Draco nodded. He couldn’t help but hope that this was the thing Harry had been hiding from him, but when he stepped out into the gardens, the man he saw there looked nothing like his lover. “You’re not Harry.” It was hardly politic, he knew, but he had so hoped…

Draco’s heart sank. At hearing that the Prince of Gryffindor had been lost for so long, he had hoped, but this man, whoever he was, was not Harry. Harry’s hair was a short mop, while this man’s was long and silken, brushing his shoulders. He even held himself like a prince. Draco knew it had been too good to hope for.

However, at Draco’s words, the man turned grey eyes on him, glowering down at him for a long time before he spoke. He certainly didn’t seem the kindly sort. And he was almost as old as the man who had directed him out here. “No. I’m not. He’s waiting for you.”

Draco’s heart did a leap at that. “What?” Harry was…waiting for him?

“God knows why he wants a spoiled thing like you when he could have anyone, but he does.”

Draco didn’t bother to wait for more, but hurried around the bend in the path, to the bench where he’d met Harry the last time. “Harry?”

“Here, Draco.” Harry stepped out of a shadow, and into the moonlight, and Draco gasped. If Harry had been stunning in his first two outfits, this one took Draco’s breath away. Even more so because it nearly matched the outfit Draco had once seen in his dream.

“My god…look at you.”

“They tell me that these were my father’s formal robes,” Harry said softly.

“You mean…that man…Snape? He wasn’t lying? You’re really…?”

“The Prince of Gryffindor?” Harry said. He sighed then nodded. “They…had proof. That…mark on my forehead. And, apparently, I look like my father. Or so Remus and Sirius tell me.”

“Sirius?” 

“Oh, the man over there.” Harry nodded back towards the glowering man who had directed Draco to Harry. 

Draco looked back over his shoulder, and saw the man still standing there, glowering at him. Turning back to Harry, he made a face. “He…doesn’t seem to like me much.”

“He’s…father made him my personal guard when I was born, and he seems to have decided that since he failed me before, now he’s got to be extra vigilant. I don’t think it would have mattered who you were.” He smiled at Draco. “He’ll get over it.”

“Will he?” The voice wasn’t Draco’s. Nor was it Sirius’s. Instead, Lucius was standing off to one side of the path, glowering at them both. “And why would he do that when I cannot see you ever marrying my son, Prince Harry?” The last two words were sneered as though he refused to believe them.

Harry turned to look at him. “Too bad you can’t stop it. You see…turning down an offer of this sort for your son would mean that people would wonder. After all, why would you not want your son to have a match so good? Unless you had a hand in deposing the family of said match, and are worried people might find out?”

Draco glanced back and forth between Harry and his father. Lucius did seem to be accepting this far too easily. And while he’d been scolded for playing with Harry as a boy, now that Draco thought about it, he’d gotten off then far too easily. He couldn’t help wondering if his father had, indeed, known who Harry was all along. “Besides. It’s too late, father. He is my First. Or…he was.”

“You didn’t.” Lucius’s attention was focused on him fully now. “You wouldn’t be so stupid as to jeopardize everything that way.”

“Apparently so.” Draco took Harry’s hand. “And even more? I’ve Chosen. Whatever you do? Harry’s right. People _will_ wonder. You can’t stop me.”

Lucius glanced between the two of them, then back to Draco. “Prove it, then. If he was your First, what is your power?”

But the problem was, Draco had been so wrapped up in being upset about Harry not being anywhere he could find him, he’d had no thought as to what his new power might be. “I…” He glanced at Harry, as though to ask him what he should do, when something clicked inside him, and he smiled. He turned back to his father. “I’ll show you. And if it leads me directly to Harry?”

Lucius scowled. “Then…I will…approve of your marriage.” The words sounded as though he’d had to struggle to get them out of his mouth at all.

“Good. Sirius?”

The guard stepped forward then nodded at Draco cautiously. “Yes, Highness?”

“Will you take Harry inside? Somewhere in the center of the crowd would be best.”

“Draco…”

Draco turned to Harry, placing a finger on his lips. “Trust me?”

After a moment, Harry nodded, smiling at the memory of the night before the words had provoked. “All right. But if I don’t see you soon, I’ll be sending Sirius after you.”

“No need. I’ll be there faster than you can blink.”

“Right.” He pulled Draco into a kiss before both men, who each glowered at the sight, but neither one said anything. Satisfied, Harry pulled back and turned to Sirius. “Lead the way, Padfoot.”

Draco blinked at the name, but now was not the time to deal with suspicions, and he turned back to his father. “Do you have a handkerchief, father?”

Nodding, Lucius pulled one out, and Draco turned away. “Put it over my eyes.”

“Draco…” Lucius started warningly.

“Please, father.”

Lucius sighed, then slipped the silken piece of fabric over his son’s eyes, then tied it securely. “And now?”

“Lead me to the door? I don’t want to trip. Once inside, I should be fine.”

Draco couldn’t see the expression on his father’s face, but the huff told him easily enough that Lucius thought this a waste of time. Still, he took his son’s arm and guided him slowly to the door.

“Thank you, father. I can take it from here.” Even as he stepped away from his father, he could sense others around and in front of himself. How he’d missed this before, he didn’t know. Each person had a singular signature, and Draco moved through the room, deftly avoiding the others, searching for the green-red-gold that was Harry, smiling when he “saw” him standing near four other signatures—one black-gold-silver, one brown-red-grey, one black-green-silver, and the last a bright burst of vibrant colors, some of which seemed to have no name he could think of.

He focused on Harry’s signature, approaching him then taking his hands. “Found you.” The handkerchief slipped from his eyes—he didn’t pay any attention to who had pulled it off—and looked up into the green eyes he loved so much. “You’re mine,” he said with a smile.

Harry grinned at him. “Yes.”

And they lived happily ever after. (Except for Lucius, who even after the boys managed to have two heirs, one for each kingdom, continued to be bitter that his son married into the Gryffindor family, rather than claiming their kingdom for his own, as Lucius had felt was his birthright.)

_fin_


	16. Draco's Dreams Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale. And Harry and Draco finally admit to the feelings the dreams have stirred in them both.

When Draco had finished the final dream, Harry was looking rather stunned. “Harry?”

“You…we…wow…” His hand came up to stroke Draco’s cheek again, and he scooted closer. “You chose me over your father?”

The thought made Draco uncomfortable. He looked away so he didn’t have to meet Harry’s eyes. “It was just a dream.”

“So…you wouldn’t then?” Harry sounded sad.

Draco looked up into those green eyes that he’d always hated because they had always glared at him before now, even though they were a colour he knew Potter would never properly appreciate himself. “I don’t know. I’ve…never had to choose. That choice was taken from me.”

Harry blinked at him. “What? When?”

Draco sighed and looked away. “On the Hogwarts Express.”

Harry stayed silent for a long time before answering. “We were kids, Draco. I’d say…a few things have changed since then. At least…I’d like to think so.”

Draco nodded. “True.” He looked up to meet Harry’s eyes again. “So…you aren’t disgusted by it?”

“God, no,” he said softly. “Why? Did dreaming of that really upset you so much?”

It was difficult for Draco to hold back the disbelieving laugh at that. “No…just…dreaming about my dearest foe that way…wasn’t what I expected.” Neither had been wanting Harry as much as he had. He felt his cheeks flush at the thought, and he felt Harry stroked a finger over one again. 

“You liked it?” he asked softly.

Draco’s eyes slid shut. “I wanted it so bad I could taste it.” And then Harry’s lips were on his once more, and Draco moaned as Harry’s tongue pressed into his mouth. He put his hands on Harry’s back, pulling him closer, but after a moment he pulled away. “Don’t…aren’t you dating Weasley’s sister? I thought…you liked girls. I mean…” He took a calming breath. “Aside from the fact that you hate me…”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t hate you, Draco.”

That confused Draco, and then he was shaking his head, negating Harry’s statement for a moment. “But what about the fact that we were on opposite sides? And what about Weasley’s sister?”

With a sigh, Harry pulled back. “Ginny’s dating Neville. I made her wait a bit too long, I guess. And…they work together well, so…” He smiled softly. “I’m happy for them. I was a bit lonely, but… And honestly, Draco I never really think about these things until they’re shoved under my nose. So why should this be any different?”

Draco wanted to laugh, but his emotions were in such turmoil right now that he wasn’t sure he’d be able. “So…if…I wanted…”

“Do you want me?” Harry asked, stopping the flow of hesitant words from Draco.

“I…I don’t…” Seeing Harry’s face fall at the word, Draco swallowed thickly. He hadn’t met that. He squeezed Harry's hands and nodded instead. “I think so.”

The light rekindling in Harry’s eyes made him glad he’d managed it. Not even bothering with a verbal answer, Harry kissed him again then pushed him gently back against the arm of the couch they were on. They kissed for a bit before Harry pulled back, looking a bit hesitant. “Have you…done this before?”

The words sent an electric jolt through Draco’s system. ‘This.’ He and Harry were really going to…do more than kiss. He couldn’t help but pull him in for another kiss before answering. “Does it matter?”

“Well…no. But…I haven’t. I don’t want to hurt you, Draco.”

It was on the tip of Draco’s tongue to say it was too late to worry about that, but he repressed it, smiling instead and kissing Harry again. After all, Harry wanted this. That was a big improvement all on its own, wasn’t it? He shifted to roll them over on the couch, settling on top of Harry. “So let me lead the way, then?”

Harry nodded slowly. “All right.”

There was a surge of joy inside Draco, and he leaned down to kiss Harry, not even caring when the edges of Harry’s glasses pressed into his cheek as they kissed. Even as they kissed, his hands moved to push up Harry’s tee-shirt, his fingers marking out the lines of Harry’s ribs, then working down over his stomach.

Harry wiggled at that, and Draco stopped to look up at him. “What?”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Tickles.”

Draco smirked. “It’ll do a lot more in a minute, Potter.”

Harry scowled. “Don’t.”

Draco stilled his fingers completely, deflated at that reaction. “Sorry.” 

He pulled back, but Harry caught his hand. “Don’t stop. Just…don’t call me that. Please?”

Unable to find the words for his relief that he wasn’t being asked to stop, Draco nodded, a spike of happiness filling him. He leaned in to kiss Harry again, his fingers once more moving down his body, stopping to undo Harry’s jeans. He fumbled with the buttons for a moment before managing to work them free then slid his hand inside and curling it around Harry.

“Ohgod…” Harry’s eyes closed, his hips jerking up at the contact. 

Draco brought a hand to Harry’s cheek. “Look at me. Please. Want to see this. I’ve been dreaming about it for…” He smiled as he realized just how short a time it had been. “A week. Well…sort of. Please don’t look away now?”

Harry managed to open his eyes meeting Draco’s eyes, but Draco knew neither of them would last long, so he pulled his hand away.

“Oh…please…don’t stop.”

“I won’t. I just…” He fumbled with his own trousers now, pushing them down then pressed down against Harry, which drew a strangled moan from both of them. 

“Ah…fuck…Draco…oh…” Harry’s hands settled on Draco’s hips, pulling him down against him as they moved together. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Draco asked, more confident now as they moved together.

“Fuck yeah,” Harry said with a smile, one hand settling on the back of Draco’s neck to pull him down into another kiss. “Don’t stop.”

“Not about to,” Draco said. His own breath was coming faster, and he licked out over Harry’s lips, pressing his tongue into the other boy’s mouth, moaning as they ground together. He knew it could get better than this, but with this feeling so good, he knew he could wait for more. It was Harry’s first time. He passingly wondered if that meant at all, or just with a guy, then decided it didn’t much matter just now. Hopefully Harry’d be up for another round later. And either way, Draco would be his first. He tried not to think that Harry might not want this again. If this was just a one-off because he was horny…

Then Harry nipped at his lip, shifting to nibble down his neck, and Draco forgot all about his worries and fears, arching his neck and grinding harder against Harry as he moaned again. “Oh…yes. Like that…ah…” His fingers slid up to stroke over Harry’s chest, delighting in the groan that tore from him. “More?” he asked in a whisper.

There was a strangled, “Yes,” before Harry’s lips found his neck once more, sucking hard at the skin and making Draco gasp and stretch his neck more.

Before Draco could retaliate, though, Harry flipped them again, his lips finding Draco’s neck once more, fastening on the spot he’d been sucking on before he’d flipped them as he ground harder against Draco. “God…yes…” Draco arched up against him, finally letting his eyes fall closed as Harry took over. The sight of him was just too much now. He knew he wouldn’t last too much longer at this rate. He’d needed this ever since he’d woken from that final dream, and with Harry, here, pressed against him, willing and warm and kissing back; it was all he could do to hold on. “Harry…oh…” He shuddered. “Close.”

“Yes,” Harry whispered, grinding against him faster now, his lips covering Draco’s once more. So real. It was all Draco could do to wind his arms around him, and then he was crying out into Harry’s mouth as he found release, clinging to him until he felt Harry do the same. Then they collapsed against the couch, both drained and panting. “Fuck.”

Draco laughed. “Exactly, Po—Harry.” He flushed, still not used to using the name, but glad for the chance to be so familiar. Once he’d caught his breath, he looked up at him. “So…?”

Harry opened his eyes looking down to meet his eyes, a goofy smile on his face, his glasses slightly askew. “Wow…” He kissed Draco again, softer this time, then stroked his cheek again. “That was…”

“Nothing,” Draco interrupted. He had to know if this was a one-off or more. Now. “Not compared to…what we could do. I mean…if you like.” Draco couldn’t help but hold his breath as he waited to hear what Harry would say to that.

He didn’t have to hold it long. “I like.” He kissed Draco again, and Draco happily responded, feeling his heart lighten just a bit. But then Harry pulled back. “But…I…can we really do this? I mean…your parents…”

“Your friends aren’t much better, P-Harry. I mean…look at how they looked at me when I came in. And that was without you fawning all over me. If they find out you like me?”

Harry got a stubborn look on his face. “Well, they’ll have to get used to it, won’t they?”

“They…will?”

“Yeah.” Harry looked at Draco. “Won’t they?”

Draco grinned. “I guess so.” He kissed Harry again. That bit was not going to get old any time soon. Each kiss seemed more addictive than the last. Finally, he pulled back to look at Harry again. “So…now what?”

Harry laughed. “You mean after we leave this room?”

“Oh? Were we going to do that?” Draco asked with a bit of a smirk.

Harry shrugged. “Someday, I suppose. I mean, I guess we could just have Kreacher deliver all our meals…” he added with a grin.

“Sounds like heaven,” Draco said, tightening his arms around Harry.

“So long as you keep telling me fairy tales.”

Draco’s heart flipped over a bit at that, but he smiled. “Fairy tales starring us?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, a soft smile answering Draco’s.

“But…what happens if I can’t?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to give you inspiration, won’t I?” Harry asked with a wink, leaning down to kiss Draco once more.

Draco decided that maybe those dreams hadn’t been a bad thing after all. Not with this sort of reaction, at any rate. And that he hoped Harry intended to provide a _lot_ of inspiration.

_The End. And I really mean it this time!_


End file.
